


Wounds

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-08
Updated: 1999-05-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser's old wound brings him near death, but Ray is there to help him heal.





	Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Wounds 

A t-shirt and the person wearing it inspired this story. My deepest thanks  
to my beta-reader, Jennifer, who displayed a saint's patience with me  
as I sent this story in tiny bits over a 5 month period. Thanks also  
to Dsrvbf for allowing me to use the character of 'Theressa'.

Comments welcome @WestRacine on AOL 

Warnings:  
Coming at you in this story --  
Medical Inaccuracies...   
Psychological Inaccuracies...   
Diarrhea...   
**'R' for language**  


# Wounds

by Laurie Redwood  


### 1.

He knew that he was sick. Thoughts floated and were scattered and disjointed  
in his fevered mind. He tried to put them back in order.

He lay in his bed on his left side, staring out the window. To try to move onto his back or right side caused him exquisite pain. He was sweating again, his undershirt and boxers sticking uncomfortably to him, so he knew his fever was coming down. *Ray. I wish I had mentioned this to Ray before he left, but he was so happy and excited. How many days was that now? Two or three?* 

~~~~~~

Ray's childhood friend, Paulie DiCocco, was getting married and had asked Ray to be a groomsman. Paulie, a successful businessman in New York City, owned a computer software company. The wedding was being held at The Four Seasons and would cost thousands of dollars. Ray flew out to New York on Thursday and planned to return Sunday night. 

Fraser had last seen Ray on Wednesday when he accompanied him to a formal wear shop to try on his tuxedo. While waiting, he squirmed in the chair trying to get comfortable. His back had bothered him that day, but if the truth be told, his back frequently gave him some minor discomfort. But that day it was different somehow. Yes, he had been moving some boxes for Inspector Thatcher earlier, so he attributed it to strained muscles. *Nothing more. A warm bed and an early night is all that is needed. No need to mention anything and alarm Ray. Just sore muscle. Don't alarm Ray. Especially when it is something so minor. Afterall, you know how guilty he still feels.* 

He was pleasantly surprised when Ray stepped out of the fitting room. The black tuxedo had a soft pearl gray tie that accentuated the color of his eyes. The beautiful cut of the expensive tuxedo along with Ray's thin frame and graceful movements made him look...elegant. Fraser immediately thought of Fred Astaire. 

"Ray! You look wonderful. Very handsome." 

"You think so, Benny? I haven't seen Paulie in years and this is a big wedding. I don't wanna look goofy or anything." Ray was eyeing himself from different angles in the full length three way mirror. Fraser moved to stand behind him. 

"No quite the opposite, Ray. You look elegant. Just like Fred Astaire." 

"Jeez. Thanks, Benny." His tone was one of 'Earth to Benny', but Fraser could see the pleased look in his friend's eyes. Ray knew he looked handsome. 

After that they went to an exclusive gift shop at Frannie's suggestion. Following much debate, Ray settled on a set of twelve Irish crystal wine glasses that cost a small fortune. Arrangements were made with a companion store in New York City so Ray wouldn't have to bring the stemware onto the plane. They each held a glass up to the light and turned them this way and that to see the multitude of rainbows created by the cuts in the crystal. 

"Wow! These are beautiful, Benny. So delicate." 

"They certainly are, Ray. I know your friend will appreciate them." 

"Ahh. I don't know. Paulie could be such a doofus. I wouldn't be surprised if he drank Strawberry Quick from them." 

*Strawberry Quick?* Fraser wanted to inquire but refrained. He didn't have the strength right now. Best to avoid an onslaught of comments about his lack of knowledge of American Popular Culture and ruminations about what his childhood and upbringing were like. He filed the thought away for discussion at a later time. 

They parted after that. Ray offered dinner, but Fraser refused. He knew Ray still had alot to do to get ready for his flight and Fraser just wanted to shower, letting hot water run down his aching back. They said their good-byes in the Riv. Ray promised to have a safe flight and tell Fraser all about the wedding and Paulie. Fraser promised he would take care of himself. 

~~~~~~

The shower did not provide the needed effect, instead it left Fraser feeling chilled, dizzy, and weaker. *It must be the flu. Nothing more.* He was unsteady on his feet when he walked to Mr. Mustafi's door and asked to use the phone. The answering machine picked up his call to the Consulate. He left a message telling of his suspicion that he had caught a flu and that he would be out sick for the next two days. *Four days. That will give me four days to rest and recover. Plenty of time.* 

Fraser thanked Mr. Mustafi and staggered back to his apartment leaning on the walls for support. He didn't notice Mr. Mustafi cleaning the telephone receiver with alcohol to kill the offending virus. 

Chills. Shivering. Cold. 

*You really must keep an adequate fire going in the fireplace, Benton. One could easily freeze to death in his own cabin. I taught you that, didn't I?* 

*Yes Dad.* 

Fraser pulled the blanket tighter. He staggered across the room to throw some more wood into the fire, but found that the fireplace was bricked up. *Now what on earth is this? Why did Ray brick up the fireplace? He is an inexperienced builder but surely I would have noticed him doing something so inappropriate. Now why did he do that I wonder?* 

He tested the bricks to see if he could loosen them; they would not budge. *Excellent masonry, Ray.* 

Fraser blinked and wondered why he was on his knees by the fireplace. Bright daylight streamed through the windows and hurt his eyes. He thought it had been snowing, but no, he was mistaken. *Must be a dry cold.* 

He could barely stand and just made it to the bed before collapsing. He tried to cover himself but realized he left his blanket by the fireplace. 

Heat. Sweating. Thirst. 

Fraser felt as if he were lying in wet, sticky grass. His back and chest were painful. He reached behind him and touched a tender lump that was near the bullet scar on the right side of his back. 

*Ray. Where's Ray?* 

He opened his eyes and immediately shut them as the daylight stabbed him in the eyes. *Ray. Oh yes. Ray is at a wedding in New York. What day is today?* 

He moaned. A new pain. His bladder was hugely distended and he couldn't relieve himself. Not that he could make it to the washroom anyway because now he couldn't feel or move his legs. 

*Oh dear.* 

Any movement sent knife-like pain through him. He wrapped his hands protectively around his bladder. He formed a vague plan to yell for Mr. Mustafi but passed out before he could put his plan into effect. 

Chills. Bone chilling cold. Wetness. Fraser reached behind him to pull a blanket over himself but his hand felt nothing. No blanket was there. 

*Ray. Where's Ray? Oh yes, Ray is in New York with Paulie something. Paulie something strawberry. He's with Fred Astaire in New York putting strawberries in glasses. I hope he gets done soon.* 

The cold made him shiver and the tiny movements caused him agony. Fraser noticed he was soaking wet. 

*From what? Is this Prince Rupert Sound Dief? Is that where we are?* 

Suddenly, without warning and without nausea, he vomited. The foul tasting bile burned the back of his throat. 

*Dief, I don't what's wrong but I think it's killing me.* He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed his upper arms in a futile effort to produce warmth. 

### 2.

Ray knocked at the door and the silence from inside was omnious. No chair  
being pushed back along the wooden floor, no footsteps coming towards  
him. He cautiously opened the door and said a quiet "Benny" in case Fraser  
was sleeping. The overpowering odors of stale urine and vomit hit him  
in the face like a slap and immediately made him nauseated. The apartment  
was in total darkness, but the grey hallway light illuminated Benny lying  
on his left side on the bed. Ray flicked on the kitchen light and saw  
that Fraser had his arms wrapped around his head and that his clothes  
and bed were saturated. Green vomit was on the floor beside the bed.

"Oh my God! Benny!" 

He raced to the bedside and even before he put a hand to his friend, he could feel the heat radiating from his body. Ray lifted Fraser's arms from his head and let out a gasp as he saw that his friend's eyes were rolled up into his head. His complexion was ashen despite the fever and he was shaking from a chill. A golf ball sized lump was clearly visible through his urine soaked undershirt. Ray fingered the mass and Fraser groaned at the gentle touch. 

The Paramedics arrived quickly and fired question after question at Ray. 

..."I last saw him Wednesday night. He wasn't sick." 

..."No he doesn't use drugs." 

..."That's a bullet wound. Bullet's still in there, near the T-8 vertebrae. It couldn't be removed. It never bulged like that though." 

Ray was numb with guilt. The room had begun to spin and he had to sit at the small table to keep himself from fainting. He was no doctor but he wasn't stupid. He knew that lump had something to do with 'his' bullet in Fraser's back. 

Ray lay his head on the table. The coolness of it lessened the throb in his head. He heard the medics words as they spoke softly to each other. 

Each word stabbed him painfully in the soul. 

"He's toxic...comatose...responds to pain only...spinal involvement." 

He glanced up and looked at Fraser and the medics working on him just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. *No. Not a dream.* The nightmare was very real. He returned his head to the table and concentrated on breathing. 

The Paramedics seemed young to Ray, the eldest couldn't have been no more than 25 years old. He noted that they called Fraser "Sir" and spoke to him as if he were awake. 

"Sir, I'm just going to take some tubes of blood and start an IV." 

"Sir, we need to turn you onto your back for a few moments. I know it hurts and we'll get you onto your side as soon as we can." 

They turned Fraser on his back and he began to groan. Ray knew his friend would be embarrassed if he was aware that the three young men quickly removed his urine stained undershirt and shorts and that he was now laying naked in front of them. So Ray was embarrassed for him. 

He could not watch anymore so he lay his head back on the table. He heard them tell Fraser that they were going to insert a catheter into his bladder and a tube down his throat so he could breathe easier. 

Ray clenched his jaw and fists and squeezed his eyes shut. *This is not happening. Oh God in heaven this is not happening.* 

Benny's groaning suddenly stopped and Ray risked a quick look. He saw that the medics had gotten Fraser intubated and were taping the airway to his face while forcing oxygen into his lungs. He also noted that the catheter was inserted; urine collected in a bag by Fraser's feet. Benny's eyes would not close so they put some lubricant in his lower eyelid and taped them shut. Ray was grateful for that. With just the whites of his eyes visible, Fraser looked almost demonic. A devil who had come to punish him and make him suffer for what he had done. 

Voices that were talking softly amongst themselves had now risen and had an urgency to them. 

"Oh, Jesus Christ! He's seizing. Don't hold him down, just don't let him get hurt. Stay by the bed." 

"Jerry, keep pumping that Ambu bag." 

"Thank God he's intubated." 

"Ryan, get Valium quick!" 

His body was mostly obscured by the paramedics, but Ray could see Fraser's body flailing, his head turning violently from side to side, his chest nearly lifting off the bed. 

Ray got up and ran from the table trying to find sanctuary, somewhere safe, somewhere away from here. He found it at the kitchen window, looking down the fire escape. He pressed his head against the glass, his breath frosting the window. *Oh my God. This is not happening. Oh dear God, please let him be alright.* 

The Paramedics were now busy giving medicines through the IV lines. Phenobarbital and Valium for the seizure; antibiotics for the toxic infection. An acetomenophen suppository and ice packs were used to help reduce the fever. 

"Sir...sir." 

Ray ignored the Paramedic thinking that he was speaking to Benny again.

"Sir!" 

Ray turned around and saw that Fraser was on a stretcher and the medics were about to go out the door. All the Paramedics were staring at him. 

"Oh. You're talking to me..." 

"Sir, do you want to ride to the hospital with us?" 

"Oh yeah. Thank you." Ray followed them, dazed. 

"OK folks. Step aside. Show's over", the paramedic said to Fraser's neighbors who had clustered around the door and lined the hallway. 

### 3.

Ray was left in the ER waiting room, doubled over in a plastic chair.  
He shared the room with a father and two of his sons, Matt and Jeff,  
aged 7 and 9, respectively. They were waiting for an older brother who  
needed stitches and an arm casted when he fell off the bed the three  
of them were jumping on. Not that anyone spoke to him, Ray was able  
to gather the information from listening to the two boys. The lateness  
of the hour and the significance of the event didn't phase them as they  
were running around the room at full speed.

They asked their father for soft drinks from the vending machine and the distracted father brought them each one. He added plastic wrapped chocolate cakes for good measure. *Bad move*, thought Ray. 

When the boys began to yell and wrestle, Ray thought the father should intervene but he was busy looking towards the treatment area worrying about his eldest son. The two boys laughing and playing reminded him of his own home and kept him from thinking about Fraser. 

*How long has he been in there?* He glanced at his watch. *Eleven O'Clock*

He groaned *This is not a good sign.* 

Was it only 24 hours ago that he stood on a balcony with a woman in his arms laughing and kissing while all of New York glittered around them? He never felt happier or more alive. *While Benny was dying in Chicago. Oh my God. It will never heal. It will never go away.* 

Not that he let himself think about the shooting but every so often he would get a reminder that hit him like a thunderclap. And the wound that ran from his heart to the pit of his stomach would reopen with terrifying ease and a raw throbbing pain would leave him doubled over and gasping for breath. 

*It will never heal. It will never go away.* 

And the wound on his soul was wide open and aching now, and he doubled himself over to keep his great heart from breaking. 

*It will never heal.* 

"Detective Vecchio?" 

*It will never go away.* 

"Detective Vecchio?...Detective Vecchio?" A hand was on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "You're here for Benton Fraser?" 

Startled, Ray nodded. 

"I'm Dr. Frank Brincheiro. I'm a neurologist responsible for Mr. Fraser's care. Let me tell you a little of what's happening." He sat in the plastic chair beside Ray. 

*God. He's young. Why does everyone seem so young?* 

Dr. Brincheiro put a comforting touch on Ray's forearm. Alarm signals were going off in his head. *Oh my God. It's bad. They never do that unless it's bad.* 

"Detective Vecchio, it's very bad."

"Oh my God! I knew it!", Ray nearly screamed. 

Matt and Jeff stopped mid-wrestle and stared wide eyed at him. The doctor's touch became stronger on Ray's arm and his voice lower and gentler. 

"He's in critical condition. What has happened is really very simple physiologically. The gun shot wound Mr. Fraser suffered in May of 1995 encapsulated. That is, scar tissue grew around the bullet. Body fluids got trapped inside the scar tissue and eventually the fluids became pustulant and an abscess formed. The abscess grew effecting the nerves in the area and is pressing on the spinal cord." 

Ray closed his eyes and shook his head. "Is he paralyzed?" 

"We don't know yet. The abscess is large and is causing increased pressure in the brain and spinal cord. This can cause severe neurological damage or death. What we need to do now is to fight the infection and decrease the intercranial pressure. We're giving Mr. Fraser a variety of potent antibiotics to halt the infection and diuretics to help reduce the swelling in the area. For the increased intercranial pressure, we put Mr. Fraser in what is called a barbituate coma. He is receiving large doses of barbituates through his IV to immobilize and sedate him. This helps to prevent the intercranial pressure from increasing. As the antibiotics and diuretics begin to work decreasing the abscess, the cranial pressure will decrease too. When we get normal cranial pressures for two days or so, we'll reverse the coma. We can then check for any neurological damage." 

Ray had been holding his head down throughout the doctor's narrative, nodding occassionally to indicate he understood each detail as it was explained to him. 

"Mr. Fraser will receive antibiotics for about 2-3 weeks, depending on his progress. When the infection is cleared, he will have to have surgery." 

Ray's heart was pounding. "You're going to remove the bullet?" 

"No. But we have to incise the scar tissue capsule. If we don't, the abscess will develop again. And if it does, the likelihood of it transecting the spinal column and leaving him paralyzed are very high. In fact, the abscess has already made inroads into the spinal fluid as Mr. Fraser does have meningitis. We did a spinal tap and it was positive for bacteria." 

*It will never heal. It will never go away.* 

The waiting room was feeling very warm and Matt and Jeff's playful yells were sounding distant and hollow. It was getting hard to breathe. 

"Can I see him?" 

"Yes. He should be settled in the ICU by this time. I'll take you up. But before we go, let me tell you a little of what to expect." 

Ray looked up and nodded. 

"In order to monitor the intercranial pressure, we had to drill a tiny hole in Mr. Fraser's skull. Through this tiny burr hole we inserted a thin fiber-optic sensor..." 

*Drill a tiny hole in his skull? Drill a tiny hole in his skull!* 

Ray couldn't breathe and the room began to spin. He stood up to run but Dr. Brincheiro grabbed him by the coat sleeve. The young doctor looked alarmed and was talking to Ray but his lips moved wordlessly. There was a roaring in his ears and his vision went black. The last thing he felt was the doctor's lab coat pressed against his face. 

### 4.

His vision was grainy and he blinked a few times in an attempt to improve  
it. Three faces floated above him; one concerned, two in awe.

"Wow! That was so cool! Did you see that, Jeff?" 

"Awesome! That was great! He bounced when he hit the floor!" 

"Ya think he'll do it again?" 

"I sure hope so!" 

Ray saw Dr. Brincheiro cast a pleading glance towards the father of the children who was immediately at Ray's side and pulling the boys away. 

Ray groaned and closed his eyes. *This is not happening. This is not happening.* He felt the doctor's hand on his forearm and warm fingers feel the pulse at his wrist. 

"I'm alright. It was just too much, that's all." He brought a shaking hand up to cover his eyes. Ray made an attempt to sit up but the doctor held him down. 

"No. Just stay right there for a minute." 

He felt really foolish on the floor but decided it was a damn good idea to stay put because when he tried to sit up he didn't feel very well. Matt just might get his wish of an encore. 

Just then he heard the father of the two boys speak. "Look guys! Here comes Mom and Sam!" 

Ray turned his head a little and saw a boy about the age of ten being wheeled into the waiting room by his mother. The boy had a bandage on his brow and a blue cast on his forearm. Ray on the floor was forgotten for the moment, the boys drawn to their older brother by the allure of the bandage and cast. 

"Wow. Cool!" 

"You're so lucky, Sammy!"

"Hey, Sammy! You shoulda seen it! That guy just keeled over!" 

"Come on boys. Let's get Sam home." 

"This place is great! Can we come back tomorrow night, Dad?" 

Ray heard the two boys talking excitedly as the family exited out the automatic doors. 

Dr. Brincheiro helped Ray into a sitting postion and told him not to move. Ray didn't trust himself to move yet so he was happy to comply. Dr. Brincheiro returned a few moments later with ginger-ale and peanut butter crackers. He helped him into a chair and Ray just sat with his head in his hands. 

"Are you feeling any better?" 

"Yeah. Thanks." 

He heard the pop of the soda can and then the liquid fizzing as it was poured over ice. He heard the cellophane wrapper of the crackers being opened. 

"Here eat this and drink the ginger-ale. When you're done, we'll go to the ICU." 

Ray wasn't hungry or thirsty but it sounded like a condition in order to see Fraser. The crackers were small and he ate two at a time to fool himself into thinking he was eating three, not six. The ginger-ale was ice cold and to his surprise tasted good. He was done quickly and turned to the young doctor who was watching him, concerned. 

"Let's go, doc." 

~~~~~~

The elevator doors opened on the third floor. Dr. Brincheiro guided a shaking Ray towards the ICU. His hand gently gripped Ray above the elbow. Ray was thankful for the support because he found himself increasingly unsteady and now, crying. He took the handkerchief from his back pocket. 

"I did this, you know." 

"Pardon?" 

"I did this. I shot him. That's my bullet in his back." 

"I'm sorry. Is there anyone I can call for you, Detective?" 

"No." 

"Can I ask what is your precinct?" 

"27th." 

The doors to the ICU opened and the men were greeted with an overpowering smell of disinfectant and the buzzes, clicks, beeps, and whistles of various monitoring devices. 

It was nearly midnight and the nurse's station was dimly lit with soft lighting. Low voices surrounded them, speaking in hushed whispers, but none of the nursing staff were at the desk. The ICU was filled with quiet activity. Except for the noise level, it reminded Ray of the police station. 

He was crying harder now and he tried to keep his sobbing quiet in deference to the atmosphere. He kept his head down and the handkerchief pressed to his eyes. 

"Good evening, Frank. You're looking for Mr. Fraser?" 

The startled men looked down the hallway in the direction of the bodiless voice. In the shadowed corridor, the first thing they could see was a white uniform floating towards them. It looked ghostly. As the uniform drew closer, arms, legs, and a warm smiling face could be seen. 

"Good evening, Suzanne. In which room is Mr. Fraser?" 

"He's in 7." 

"Suzanne, this is Detective Vecchio. He is a friend of Mr. Fraser's. He is welcome to stay as long as he likes." 

"Sure. That won't be a problem." The nurse, her smile gone and her face only showing concern, flanked Ray on the opposite side and took his arm with one hand and rubbed him between the shoulder blades with the other. Together, they guided him to room 7. 

### 5.

Except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, Fraser could have been  
a cadaver. His complexion was waxy grey and he lay completely soundless  
and immobile. Machines, IV's, tubings, and bandages covered the man.  
Ray only recognized it was Fraser from his haircut.

Dr. Brincheiro and Suzanne sat Ray in a chair that they had placed by the bedside. All of Ray's attention was focused on the metal tube coming out of Fraser's head. 

"Oh my God! You had to put a metal rod in his head!" 

"No, no. It just looks that way. The metal tube is only on the outside. Inside the epidural space is a thin fiber-optic sensor. It measures the intercranial pressure, that's all." 

Suzanne began to explain all the medical technology that surrounded Fraser. She showed Ray the machine that recorded the brain pressures. When it was normal for two days, they could reverse the barbituate coma. The barbituates were being continually dispensed through a computerized pump. The IV line was placed in Fraser's chest near his heart. The tubes down his throat and into his lungs were 'breathing' for him. The plastic stockings on his legs kept his blood circulating and helped prevent blood clots. And because he couldn't make tears or blink his eyes, gauze patches taped over them provided protection from dryness and scratches. 

"Why are his hands tied down?" 

"Because the tubes can be uncomfortable, especially the one down his throat. Sometimes a patient will become restless and try to pull the tubes and IV's out. It's for his protection, that's all." 

Ray looked at her, tears streaming down his face. "Can you untie one hand so I can hold it? I promise I won't let go." 

"And when you leave you'll tell me so I can restrain it again?" 

Ray nodded. 

Suzanne smiled. "OK. It's a deal then. Just don't forget to tell me if you leave. Oh, and another thing. Talk to him as if he were awake. He may be able to hear and understand you. It will be comforting and much less frightening for him if he knows what's going on." 

With that, Fraser's right hand was untied and she placed the lax hand in Ray's. 

Ray looked at his friend's hand and gently held it. His tears flowed over it and he kissed it and held it to his cheek. 

"I'm sorry Benny. So very sorry. Please forgive me. Please forgive me." He repeated it over and over. 

Dr. Brincheiro watched silently from the doorway, his heart aching for the tormented man who sat at the bedside. He was emotionally fragile right now. As long as he kept quiet and didn't interfere with the nurses, he could stay where he was. He had bent the rules in the past and let family members stay at the bedside. The detective was right where he needed to be; for his comatose friend physically and himself emotionally. 

~~~~~~

When Dr. Brincheiro said 'he is welcome to stay as long as he likes', no one expected Ray to keep a vigil. He never left the bedside. He always stepped aside allowing the nurses to do their ministrations. Ray would then retake his place at Fraser's side, holding his hand and talking quietly to him. About everything. About anything. About what had happened. About why they were here in the hospital. About Paulie. About the wedding. If a blood pressure was good or if Fraser's temperature came down a degree or two or if the intercranial pressure improved, Ray would shower Fraser with praise for a job well done. 

The hours passed, the nurses changed shift and still Ray sat, talking to his friend, holding his hand and never letting go. He wondered if Fraser heard him, knew he was there and understood. He never noticed the tell-tale beeping of the heart monitor as Fraser's heart rate would increase at a little story or at any of the encouragement Ray would give him. 

When he couldn't talk any more he just held Fraser's hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "I'm here Benny. I'm here." 

At one point he was doubled over and his pain was severe. It was sharp and throbbing and cut him with each breath. 

*It will never really heal. It will never go away.* 

Exhaustion. He was surprised when he felt it. He had hoped that sheer will would sustain him, but found it was not enough. 

"Ray." 

"Detective Vecchio." 

Ray turned to see Lt. Welsh and Inspector Thatcher standing in the doorway, shocked expressions on their faces. 

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. I forgot all about you. I...I...forget to call..." 

All their attention was focused on Ray. It may be Fraser who was near death but it was Ray who was dying. His olive tone had drained from his face and it gave a sickly brown-grey tint to his complexion. The sparkling green eyes were black and haunted and deep set in dark hollows of his face. His mouth hung open and his voice was thick and hoarse. He stood to greet them; he was unsteady on his feet and hunched over. 

"I'm sorry. I forgot to call. How did you find us?" 

"A Dr. Frank Brincheiro called the Desk Sergeant last night and told him what had happened and that you were here with Constable Fraser. I got the message this morning and called Inspector Thatcher." 

"Detective, you need to go home and get something to eat. Then sleep." 

"No. I can't leave. They said I could stay." 

"But you're exhausted. You'll be falling over and then we'll have two patients. You won't do Fraser any good if you're ill." 

### 6.

When Dr. Brincheiro said 'he is welcome to stay as long as he likes',  
no one expected Ray to keep a vigil. He never left the bedside. He always  
stepped aside allowing the nurses to do their ministrations. Ray would  
then retake his place at Fraser's side, holding his hand and talking  
quietly to him. About everything. About anything. About what had happened.  
About why they were here in the hospital. About Paulie. About the wedding.  
If a blood pressure was good or if Fraser's temperature came down a degree  
or two or if the intercranial pressure improved, Ray would shower Fraser  
with praise for a job well done.

The hours passed, the nurses changed shift and still Ray sat, talking to his friend, holding his hand and never letting go. He wondered if Fraser heard him, knew he was there and understood. He never noticed the tell-tale beeping of the heart monitor as Fraser's heart rate would increase at a little story or at any of the encouragement Ray would give him. 

When he couldn't talk any more he just held Fraser's hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "I'm here Benny. I'm here." 

At one point he was doubled over and his pain was severe. It was sharp and throbbing and cut him with each breath. 

*It will never really heal. It will never go away.* 

Exhaustion. He was surprised when he felt it. He had hoped that sheer will would sustain him, but found it was not enough. 

"Ray." 

"Detective Vecchio." 

Ray turned to see Lt. Welsh and Inspector Thatcher standing in the doorway, shocked expressions on their faces. 

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. I forgot all about you. I...I...forget to call..." 

All their attention was focused on Ray. It may be Fraser who was near death but it was Ray who was dying. His olive tone had drained from his face and it gave a sickly brown-grey tint to his complexion. The sparkling green eyes were black and haunted and deep set in dark hollows of his face. His mouth hung open and his voice was thick and hoarse. He stood to greet them; he was unsteady on his feet and hunched over. 

"I'm sorry. I forgot to call. How did you find us?" 

"A Dr. Frank Brincheiro called the Desk Sergeant last night and told him what had happened and that you were here with Constable Fraser. I got the message this morning and called Inspector Thatcher." 

"Detective, you need to go home and get something to eat. Then sleep." 

"No. I can't leave. They said I could stay." 

"But you're exhausted. You'll be falling over and then we'll have two patients. You won't do Fraser any good if you're ill." 

### 7.

"Yes. But you see, I have to hold his hand. If I leave they'll tie his  
hand up again. And I can't bear it that his hands will be tied up." Ray  
was crying now. "And who is going to talk to him? You see, he doesn't  
understand what's happening. They said he'll be much less frightened  
if he knows... if he knows...what's going on." He bent his head down  
and began to sob, but remembered to do it quietly.

Meg Thatcher really did like Ray Vecchio, who she considered an excellent verbal sparring partner. It broke her heart to see him without his usual buoyancy and she went to him and held him tightly. 

Lt. Welsh was moved by Ray's despair, but cultural restraint would only allow him to pat Ray reassuringly on the back. 

Thatcher spoke reassuringly. "Detective, you're not the only one who cares for Fraser. You sit over there and we'll find you something to eat and then you try to sleep. I'll sit here and talk with Fraser. You are not alone in this after all." 

She was right. They were in this together. "Thank you. Ooh! You can talk to him about Canada. I wasn't sure what to say. I never really paid attention to his stories." 

She smiled a beautiful smile that Ray had never seen before. "Alright. I will." 

They pulled a chair over to a dimly lit corner of the room in hopes that Ray would sleep. Meg held Fraser's hand and talked to him about Canada while Lt. Welsh left to find Ray something to eat. Later, after one breakfast sandwich and a bottle of iced tea, Ray fell into a fitful sleep. He had horrifying dreams of the train station and of shooting Fraser. 

*It will never really heal. It will never go away.* 

Ray slept badly for five hours. He was dragging himself out of an exhausted sleep when he heard someone calling his name. 

"Ma?" 

He opened his eyes to see Maria and his mother standing before him. They each took him by the hand and silently led him from the room so they could talk. He glanced over towards Fraser. Thatcher was still there talking to him. She was laughing quietly and as he passed, Ray heard her saying something about a hairpin. 

Once outside the room, Mrs. Vecchio and Maria embraced Ray and held him tightly. He held onto them, kissing them, smelling them, remembering happier times. They held each other while they cried. 

When they could talk again, they moved to the waiting room. They wanted to know all about Fraser and what had happened. Ray told them all he knew and then asked about the family. 

"Everyone's fine, Raymondo. Everyone is just worried about you and Benton. We were all very upset when Lt. Walsh called this morning. Will you come home with us so you can get some decent food and rest?" 

"No, Ma. I'm staying here." 

"I'm glad we brought you some toiletries then. Maria and Frannie went to Benton's apartment and picked up Diefenbaker. He'll stay with us." 

"Frannie and I cleaned up his apartment." 

Ray flinched remembering the last time he was there. He shook his head. *Jesus. It was only about 20 hours ago. Not even a full day.* 

"How was it? It was pretty bad." 

"No. Not that bad really. The place was spotless except for the bedroom. We threw out the sheets and the mattress was so heavily soiled we threw that out too. Frannie's out buying a new one. She insisted." 

The irony of that made Ray smile. 

"We left the windows open to air the place out. The stench was awful. Oh, and I brought Benton's wallet in case the hospital needed some insurance information or something. And we brought some of his father's journals too. I thought Benton might like to read them." 

Ray smiled and squeezed his sister's hand at her thoughtfulness. 

"Raymondo, please remember that we all love you and will be here for you. We'll be back tomorrow. Please call me later tonight. We'll want to know how you both are doing. Oh, and I brought some food for you and the nurses. Please eat something. You are too thin and pale, caro."

"What food did you bring?" 

"Ma made 25 meatball and sausage sandwiches this morning." 

"25 sandwiches!" 

"Yes. And tomorrow I'll bring trays of cookies. To thank them for taking such good care of my Raymondo and Benton." 

They went back to the room where Fraser lay and the Vecchios said a prayer for him. Mrs. Vecchio was in tears as she kissed Fraser's brow and caressed his face. She kissed and hugged Meg too, thanking her and wishing her God's blessing. 

Ray kissed and hugged his mother and sister before they left, thanking them for everything they had done. Maria had given him an overnight bag with the toiletries and Fraser's journals in it and placed his rosary beads in his hand. He watched as the women left arm in arm. He smiled as he heard one of the nurses exclaim, "Oh, Mrs. Vecchio! Thank you again for the delicious sandwiches. Can I ask, just how do you make your meatballs?" 

Ray showered in the families' bathroom and a nurse gave him green scrubs to wear. He looked awful in them, they were not his style or color, but he had to admit that they were comfortable. 

It was nearly three in the afternoon and Meg had been talking for nearly 6 hours. She looked exhausted. Ray was ready to relieve her. They hugged at their parting and she made Ray promise to call her should there be any changes. She also said she would be back tomorrow. 

Ray took his place by Fraser's side and held his hand. He started again by telling Fraser where they were and what was happening. 

"Frannie and Maria cleaned your place, Benny. They brought you your father's journals." He rummaged through the overnight bag to find one but pulled out Fraser's wallet instead. He absently flipped it open and was greeted by a small black and white photo of Fraser on his RCMP identification. The handsome face was smiling sweetly at him. Ray could tell Fraser was wearing his red serge and Stetson. Ray's heart clenched and tears began to sting his eyes. He ran his thumb over the photo, trying desperately to remember less painful days, before Victoria, before the shooting, before this. Memories, oh so many memories floated in his mind and gave way to laughter and then to tears. He held his friend's hand, looked at his photo, and sobbed. The wound was stabbing his heart. 

*It will never really heal. It will never go away.* 

Evening was approaching and Ray watched a beautiful sunset from the hospital window. *My plane was landing about this time yesterday. We haven't even been here 24 hours yet. Boy, time sure does fly when you're having fun.* 

### 8.

Lt. Walsh knocked on the door jamb interrupting his thoughts. "Good evening  
Detective."

"Evening, Lieutenant." 

Welsh crossed the room and stood at the bedside looking at Fraser. "How is the Constable doing?" 

"He's coming along. His temperature and intercranial pressure are down somewhat but not in a normal range yet. They say his vital signs are improving and he hasn't had any more seizures. And his eyes are almost back in his head too." 

Welsh just raised his eyebrows and Ray knew he had to explain that one just a little bit more. 

"When they uncover his eyes to put the lubricant in, you can see some of the blue and his pupil now. Before all you could see were the whites." 

"Good. That's good news. And how are you doing, Detective?" 

"Me? I'm fine, sir." 

"No. You're not. You look like shit. I've spoken to the police psychiatrist. I've asked her to come and speak to you." 

"Lieutenant, I don't need..." 

"Oh yes you do, Vecchio. This is an order, Detective. Do you understand?" 

"Understood." 

"Good. She'll be here tomorrow morning. And you will cooperate with her. Whatever she recommends, you will do. Are we clear on this?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Have you slept yet?" 

"A few hours, on and off." 

"Have you eaten?" 

"Just what you brought me this morning..." 

"Get out of here now and get something to eat. I'll stay with the Constable until you get back." 

Ray started to protest. 

"No. No. You don't get it. This is another order." 

"Right...I'll be back shortly." 

"Take your time, Detective." 

Ray stopped at the nurses station to get one of his mother's meatball sandwiches and then went off to find a vending machine for a drink. He found a chair in front of a large window. He ate very little as he watched the lights in the buildings around him come on one by one. Night had come to Chicago. 

~~~~~~

Distractions. Distractions were good. Ray surprisingly had alot of them today and he was able to keep his mind off Benny...for a little bit anyway. Now, at night time, alone with Fraser in the quiet, the pain had come back full force. To make things worse, he'd have to face the police psychiatrist in the morning, who would make him relive the shooting. She'd dance around his head and pour a little more salt on his wound. *Jesus Christ. Like it doesn't hurt enough already.* 

"Benny, I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm dying sometimes." 

The soft hiss of the ventilator and the beeps of Fraser's heart monitor were the only sounds in the room. 

"I wish you were here with me, buddy." 

The increased beeping of the heart monitor was his only response. 

Bed baths are given during the night in the ICU and Ray was glad for the break. He had been reading to Fraser from his father's journals for hours now and it was nice to have a conversation with someone. He helped the nurse as much as he could with the bed bath, mainly by helping her turn him. Ray was pleased to see that the swelling of the abscess had gone down considerably and told the nurse of his observation. She was not the nurse from the previous night, so she was glad for the comparison. 

The long night crawled by and Ray continued to read. He really didn't pay attention to what he was reading. He just didn't want Fraser to become frightened or think he was alone. 

### 9.

An icy day with snow flurries lightly falling greeted Ray when he finally  
looked up from the journal. He was exhausted. His eyes felt gritty and  
he had a throbbing headache from lack of sleep. He only hoped he'd be  
able to shower before the dreaded police psychiatrist showed up.

Meg Thatcher showed up at 8 AM with coffee and ham croissants. 

Ray was glad to see her. He appraised her of Fraser's progress and they ate together at the bedside. After breakfast, Ray was relieved of his post and went to shower. 

Ray felt even more exhausted after the long, hot shower, albeit more human. As he changed into clean hospital scrubs, he thought of the last time he was at the police psychiatrist's office. It was awful. He was pulled away from Benny's bedside to be grilled by Internal Affairs. After that, he was hauled off to the police psychiatrist for three sessions of... 

"How do you feel?" 

He had exploded, "How the fuck do you think I feel?" 

"You seem upset." 

"No! Me? Really?" 

He paced around the room, searching. Wanting to break something. Wanting to smash his fists into the wall. Wanting to feel Victoria's body go slack as he tightly squeezed his hands around her throat. Wanting to beat Fraser senseless for being so goddamn stupid and for... and for...and for what? Making him feel so bad? Yeah...that must be it. 

"I just feel so bad." 

"What is making you feel bad?" 

"The guilt...the anger..." 

"The anger?" 

*Anger? Did I say anger?* 

"What are you angry at, Ray?" 

"Me. I'm angry at me. My friend is dying. I did it. Jesus Christ, I even remember loading the gun." 

"Being angry at yourself for this accident is understandable. But anger is easily misdirected. I want you to think, Ray. Is there anything else you might feel angry about?" 

"Yeah. I'm angry at being forced to sit here and listen to this bullshit while my friend is dying. I need to be with him, not here." 

He gathered up his coat and left. More sessions were recommended, not mandatory, so Ray refused. 

He gathered up the wet towels and washcloths and sighed. No way he liked someone probing those tender feelings. He'd have to put up with all this crap again. *Now is not a good time for this.* 

He was exhausted, very weary, and dangerously close to tears. He held a wet washcloth to his face to fortify himself. *Well here I go. Let the shrink rub a little more salt in.* 

He returned to Fraser's room and not unexpectantly found Dr. Truman waiting for him. She and Meg were talking softly to one another. Dr. Truman smiled at Ray's entrance. 

"Good morning, Detective Vecchio. How are you doing?" 

*She said 'doing'. Thank God. If she says 'feeling', I swear I'm gonna slap her.* 

"I'm doing fine. Thank you, Dr. Truman." 

"Shall we find a private place to talk?" 

Ray exchanged a glance with Thatcher who smiled at him warmly. She nodded encouraginly, giving permission for him to leave, telling him she'd stay. 

Dr. Truman and Inspector Thatcher said goodbye and soft 'nice to meet yous' were exchanged. 

He followed Dr. Truman to the waiting room where she found a secluded corner and turned two chairs to face each other. 

"Ray, I'm sorry for what you are going through. Inspector Thatcher tells me you haven't left the bedside at all." 

"Yeah." 

"Constable Fraser has a good friend in you." 

"Thank you. I like to think so." 

Dr. Truman sighed. She remembered the last disastrous sessions that she had with Detective Ray Vecchio. She smiled warmly at him and he returned a faint half smile. She wondered if he knew how wounded he actually was by all this. Judging by his angry flight from the last time that they were together, probably. Has he begun to deal with his pain? Probably not. 

She glanced at him. Ray was glacially calm but his fingers and feet betrayed him. Every ounce of pain was being sent like Morse Code from fingers that wouldn't stop tapping, hands that clenched and unclenched, and feet that would not stop moving. He shifted in his chair. 

Dr. Truman was almost certain he would explode as soon as these tender feelings were approached but maybe this time she could get him to think a little. Validate his feelings, that was what she really had to do. Get him to admit his anger, direct it where appropriate, then he could face it, and begin to heal. She didn't want to lose him, so she'd have to handle this carefully. 

"In preparing to meet with you, Ray, I went over the notes of our past meetings. I also reviewed the police reports concerning the shooting incident." 

Verbal silence but Ray's fingers and feet told her she was nearing tender ground. 

"The case is closed of course and Victoria Metcalf has never been apprehended. But there is something about the incident that still sounds a little false to me, even after reviewing the police reports." 

### 10.

"What's that?"

"By all accounts, Constable Fraser was standing as the train was leaving the station. All reports concur that she was calling to him and then he began to run." 

"Yeah. So?" 

"The reports say that he was running after her to pull her from the train but unfortunately stepped into the line of fire." 

"That's right." 

"I guess what is bothering me is the conclusion that the Constable was trying to pull Ms. Metcalf from the train. How do we know that?" 

"He told me." 

"Well, if that's what he told you, I guess that's what he was intending. But if you look at it another way, one could easily conclude that he had made a decision and was joining Ms. Metcalf." 

"I guess." 

"Think about this. He was close enough to her for a moment to pull the pocketbook away from her and disarm her. If he intended to give her to the authorities, why didn't he apprehend her then? But he doesn't, and she boards the train and is calling to him. The woman that the Constable loves is leaving him. He thinks about it and then makes the decision to join her. He would have succeeded too, except for the unfortunate shooting." 

"That's OK, but that's not what happened. He was going to pull her from the train. He told me." 

"Well yes. It is just a theory. Just for a minute let's suppose that it is not a theory and that Constable Fraser was going to join Ms. Metcalf and had been successful. You would have been in quite a bit of trouble, wouldn't you Ray?" 

"I suppose." 

"Well, it wouldn't have been too bad. Ms. Metcalf's fingerprints were all over the suitcases at the train station and she had been positively identified by several witnesses, so the evidence was in favor that you and the Constable were being set-up. You probably wouldn't have gone to prison or lost your job." 

"No. I don't think so." 

"But you would have lost your home, Ray, since your friend was jumping bail. 

I forget, do you live by yourself?" 

"No." 

"That's right. You live with...I'm sorry. Who do you live with?" 

"My mother, my sisters, nieces and nephews. There are 10 of us living there." 

"Your friend was jumping bail, Ray, and your family would have been out in street. Does your family know Constable Fraser?" 

"Yeah. Of course. He's always at our house for dinner. He's like one of the family. Everybody loves him." 

"Doesn't that make you angry that a friend would do that to you? Your mother, nieces and nephews homeless? He was going to hurt you and everyone you love to run off with a criminal. Doesn't that make you angry Ray?" 

"Yeah. That would make me angry if that was the case. But it wasn't like that. He was going to pull her off the train. He told me." 

"OK. We'll talk again tomorrow. Please try and get some rest." She sighed in relief. *At least he didn't run away screaming.* 

Dr. Truman left Ray sitting in the chair. His heart was pounding and his breathing deep. His hands were numb from clutching the arm of the chair. He sat staring at a plastic plant trying to control his anger. 

Ray didn't know how long he sat there staring. The shadows shortened around the room. His exhaustion forgotten, he thought he should return to Meg. She was still there but was preparing to leave when Ray returned. She apologized saying that there were consular duties that demanded her attention. Ray thanked her for staying as long as she did. He took his place by Fraser's side and held his hand. 

~~~~~~

Nurses and doctors came and went, each examining Fraser, each reporting the good news that he was improving. His intercranial pressure was down, almost normal, as was his temperature. They were pleased. Ray was reassured by everyone that if this trend continued, the barbituate coma would be reversed within a day or two and then Fraser could be weaned from the ventilator. Normally, this news would have overjoyed Ray but he just nodded his head in silence. 

Ray was impassive. He felt cold inside. He held Fraser's hand and stared at the handsome face obscured by bandages, tapes, and tubings. 

*Well now. This is really doubled-edged isn't it? My one bullet nearly kills him twice and here I am just wanting to slap him stupid. Boy, Dr. Truman is sharp. She knows. She figured it out. Benny was going with Victoria. She's just guessing though. She'll never really know.* 

"But we know, don't we, Benny? You fucked me royally, didn't you? Not just me either, my family too. My family who loves you...cares for you...my family who are crying and praying for you...baking cookies...you were going to fuck us all." 

Ray realized he was squeezing and tugging Fraser's hand too hard so he dropped it in disgust onto the bed and stood up and walked over to the window. 

"You know what else? I wrote my police report to make me look like the bastard. 'Constable Fraser ran along side the train and attempted to prevent Victoria Metcalf's escape.' The official reports for the United States and Canada have you looking like a hero...me, I just look like a stupid dick. In two countries! Jesus, the entire North American continent thinks I'm a fuck up. But you're the one who fucked up didn't you, Fraser? You betrayed me and did you ever apologize? I never remember you saying, "I'm so sore-y, Ray, for my stupid impulsive decision. I would have screwed you and your family." 

He shook his head slowly and sadly. "No. I don't remember you ever saying that you were sorry." 

His heart was breaking and he would have cried if he could. 

"That really hurt, Fraser. You never did apologize. I know in the bigger picture it doesn't really matter much. You nearly died because of me...twice", he added as an afterthought. 

"God, those first days afterward...you probabaly don't remember...you were pretty much like you are now...unconscious and intubated and everything...but all through those days and nights I begged you to live...and to forgive me. I was so afraid you'd die before you'd forgive me. Oh God. It hurts so much...it still does. I don't think it will ever go away." 

He pressed his head against the cold glass and watched another sunset that most of Chicago wouldn't notice. 

He returned to the bedside and held Fraser's hand. 

"I'm glad we had this talk. All these things I couldn't have said to you if you were conscious you know." 

"I do admit that a little bit of me is still angry at you, Benny. It felt like when I was a kid and my father'd slap me around and throw a few things at me. But afterward, he'd apologize and take me out for ice cream and buy me plastic soldiers or something. At least he knew what he did to me and he did seem sorry. Do you know what you did to me and my family, Benny? And if you do, are you sorry?" 

The beep of the heart monitor and the soft hiss of the ventilator was his only response. 

"No. I didn't think so." 

He reached across Fraser's body and pressed the call light for the nurse. 

Thinking it must be an emergency, the nurse sprinted into the room. "Ray, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing. I'm leaving. You can tie his hand up." Ray put his overcoat on and left the room without looking back. 

*Please forgive me.* 

### 11.

Ray stepped outside into the cold January night and took a deep breath,  
thick brown Chicago air filling his lungs. *Ah! Fresh air!*

He had very little sleep these past nights and the cold air revived him. 

*There's gotta be one around here somewhere.* 

He walked a block or two and found what he was looking for. *Rose Killian's Irish Pub. That'll do.* 

The bar was warm and cozy with handsome dark wood and brass accents everywhere. The pub had only a few patrons and their soft indistinct conversations added to the atmosphere. Ray chose a stool at the far end of the bar in a corner. He didn't want to get blasted by the January air if someone should open the door. He removed his overcoat and the bartender came over to him. 

"Bad night at the hospital, doc?" 

Ray was surprised by the man's question until he realized he was still wearing the green scrub suit. He laughed a little. "Yeah. I guess you could say that." 

He ordered a 7 and 7. The bartender could tell that the doctor wasn't in the mood to talk so he left him alone with his thoughts. The drink was just as delicious and smooth as Ray remembered. He finished it in one gulp and asked for another. The bartender raised an eyebrow and looked at him suspiciously. 

"It's OK. I'm not driving. I'm walking back to the hospital." 

"It's alright, doc. I believe you." 

Ray was enjoying this. "I have the late shift tonight." 

"Should you be drinking then, doc?" 

"Naw. It's no problem. The patient's nearly dead anyway. I did it." 

"Sorry to hear that." 

Ray downed the second drink as fast as the first and ordered another. The bartender, already concerned about the doctor's skill level and not wanting him to kill or injure anymore patients when he went on duty, gave him a third watered down drink. 

Ray sat in silence as he sipped on his drink. He already had a pleasant buzz from drinking the first ones too quickly on an empty stomach. 

*Well if this doesn't beat all. Here I sit, impersonating a doctor, while my friend is dying...again...from my bullet and I'm angry at him. Well if the dumb fuck didn't try to escape with a criminal he wouldn't have gotten shot. Oh Jesus, I'm so sorry, Benny. Please forgive me. Christ, Victoria covered us both in shit and he comes up like a rose while I'm the fuck-up who nearly killed St. Fraser of Chicago. The fuck-up in 2 countries no less! Sheesh! What a bitch.* 

Ray had told no one and still out of loyalty to his friend would never tell that Fraser was going with Victoria. 

*Make me look even worse--so what else is new?* 

Numbed by the alcohol, he could examine the pain in his soul. Yep. It was there. Guilt and anger. The guilt he knew would never go away. The anger...it wasn't so much anger now that he really thought about it. It was more like just hurt. Hurt at Fraser's betrayal of him and his family; hurt that he was made to look like a dick. 

*It will never really heal. It will never go away.* 

"No. But I can make it hurt less." 

He gathered up his coat, paid for the drinks, and left the bartender a decent tip. He now knew that he had to go back where he was needed and wanted. 

"Thanks, doc. Have a good evening." The bartender smiled at him. 

One person. Here was one person who didn't know his sins, what he was guilty of. Thanks to the alcohol, he said it even before he realized it, but he felt better after he did. He shared the secret that was killing him little by little. 

"He was going with her, you know." 

"Sure, doc." 

Ray entered room 7 of the ICU and as if time had stood still while he was gone, nothing had changed. Fraser lay unconscious and immobile on the bed, the only evidence of life came from the beeping heart monitor. Ray took his position by Benny's side and untied his hand. He held the hand gently and spoke softly. "I'm back now, Benny. How 'bout we read one of your father's journals?" 

Ray reached over and took one at random from the bedside table and began to read aloud. 

### 12.

The days passed with a boring sameness. Inspector Thatcher, Elaine, or  
whoever was avaliable, would arrive in the early morning and relieve  
Ray while he went to shower and rest. Members of the Vecchio family would  
visit in the afternoon. They would always be loaded down with food for  
Ray and the hospital staff. Dr. Truman came in daily to speak with Ray,  
and to his surprise, she didn't bring anymore psychic salt. It felt better  
to talk with her now. Granted for a few days, Ray didn't talk much, only  
cried really. But when he did start to talk, painful guilt and a shameful  
hurt came flowing out. Remarkably, unbelieveably, the wounded tormented  
soul became less painful. Ray knew that he would be forever scarred  
and that it would never really go away, but it would hurt less. He would  
see to it. He deserved it.

The days and nights passed and Fraser improved. On the sixth day, the intercranial pressure was normal for two days and the epidural catheter and the metal rod attached to it were removed. The barbituate coma was reversed too. Ray was warned that Fraser would be restless as he became more aware and now talking to him and reassuring him were most important. 

Ray was there when the barbituate level began to decrease and he felt the stirrings and gentle movements of consciousness and awareness returning. Ray was quietly talking to Fraser telling him what had happened and why they were there. A slight movement of Fraser's head, a twitch of his hand, and lips that tried to form words around the endotracheal tube made Ray's heart swell. He clasped Fraser's hand tighter and spoke softly into his ear. 

"Benny, can you hear me?" 

For the first time, Fraser's hand tightened around Ray's, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

"I'm right here, buddy." Ray reached across Fraser's body and pressed the call light. 

"He's waking up!", Ray said softly as the nurse entered the room. 

"Good. Let me check to see if the eye patches can come off." The nurse took a washcloth and ran it under warm water. She gently removed the tape and gauze patches and washed the oily lubricant away from Fraser's closed eyes. 

"Benton, can you open your eyes?" 

It was an effort for Fraser. His weakness, along with the lubricant that was caked in his lashes, made this simple movement nearly impossible. He had furthur help from the nurse who washed his lids again and from Ray, who was encouraging him to open his eyes. 

After a struggle, Fraser won, and the blue eyes slowly opened. The first thing he saw was a blurry white hospital ceiling. He heard a 'That's it! Way to go, Benny!' while a hand wrapped in a washcloth came up close to his face and touched his eyelashes. He blinked. 

"Good. He can blink. The eye patches can stay off. Let me just inform the doctor and maybe we can adjust the ventilator settings." 

He heard her footsteps move around the bed and fade as she left the room. 

Ray's grinning face moved into his line of vision. 

"Hiya, Benny." 

Bits and pieces of memory came flowing back. Fraser remembered laying in the darkness with only Ray's voice to hold onto. Ray's voice reading to him, talking to him, giving him comfort as he floated in a frightening and painful world. A voice anchoring him, telling him he wasn't dead, praising any improvement. A voice he heard asking for forgiveness; a voice he heard crying softly. His friend. He just wanted to say... 

Ray saw Fraser's lips moving as he struggled to speak. 

"Ssh, Benny. You got that tube down your throat. You can't talk with it in. They'll set the machine and maybe you can get it out tomorrow." 

Fraser was exhausted and could feel himself fading fast. It was an effort to keep his eyes open so he let them close hoping he'd save enough energy to... 

Ray felt Fraser squeeze his hand twice. *Thank you, Ray.* 

"You're welcome, Benny." 

~~~~~~

Ray now had a new sound to keep him company. For six days he only had the hiss of the ventilator and the beeping of the heart monitor. Now that the ventilator was set to 'assist', everytime Fraser took a breath on his own, the machine made a sound like a chirp and a white light would blink. 

*Cool! A light show!* 

The chirping was rare at first. Now, as late afternoon approached, Ray noted that the chirping was constant as Fraser became more restless. In his restlessness, he would open his eyes, turn his head, and try to pull his hands free. Ray would speak to him, trying to re-orient him, and it did calm Fraser considerably. But best of all, Ray saw that whenever he moved, Fraser would bend his knees. Ray sent many thanks and prayers towards Heaven that maybe his best friend wasn't paralyzed after all. 

### 13.

As he showered in the morning, Ray realized that for the first time in  
days, he felt happy. The oppressive dread that had enveloped his heart  
had lifted a little as he heard the ventilator chirp and saw Fraser move  
his legs all night. He'd still have to have surgery though, but they'd  
deal with that later. Right now, they had a small breathing space.  
Who knew what the future would bring?

He followed his now 'usual' routine of putting on clean clothes and collecting the wet towels and putting them in the linen receptacle in the hallway. When he stepped into Fraser's room, Ray automatically turned towards the ventilator to look for the reassuring chirp and blink. Nothing. No blink, no hiss, no chirp. Someone had turned the machine off. He ran to it and shook the ventilator like it was a pin ball game. 

*Oh my God! They unplugged it! Jesus Christ! Someone turned off the life support!* 

He heard it just as he was about to run screaming from the room. 

"Ray." 

His heart pounding like a jackhammer, he turned to look in the direction of the soft, muffled voice. 

Fraser lay on the bed smiling at him. He was extubated and now wore a humidified oxygen mask to soothe his painful sore throat. 

Ray's heart clenched and tears stung his eyes. He couldn't speak for a long moment. "Benny?" 

He lowered the side rail and took Fraser in his arms. They held onto each other tightly. 

Ray was crying. "I'm so sorry, Benny. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." 

Fraser's voice was thick and hoarse. "Thank you Ray. You never left me. I thought I was dead. I didn't know what was happening. But I heard you. Thank you." 

"I nearly killed you again, Benny. Please forgive me." 

"I won't forgive you, because there is nothing to forgive. You had nothing to do with this. Ray, you have to forgive yourself." 

"I don't think I'll ever be able to do that." 

Fraser's voice was now a raspy whisper and his strength was gone. He could no longer sit up or embrace Ray and his arms slid down Ray's back and hung limply at his sides, his head resting heavily on his friend's shoulder. Ray gently laid him back down. 

"Please try." 

Ray settled Fraser in bed and made him comfortable. 

"Thank you for being here, Ray." 

Ray dried his eyes. "Benny, your voice is getting worse. Maybe you shouldn't talk for awhile. Give your throat a rest." 

Fraser nodded. 

"Would you like me to read one of your father's journals?" 

"No. Tell me more about Jennifer." 

Jennifer. The name struck Ray like a lightning bolt. "Oh my God. Jennifer." 

"What is it, Ray?" 

"Oh, Benny. I screwed up big time. I haven't called her since I came home." 

"Why not?" 

"Well I was busy with you, you know." 

"Call her, Ray. She sounds lovely." 

"She is, Benny. She's wonderful." Ray laughed a little. "You remember that? "You remember me telling you about Jennifer?" 

Fraser nodded. "Tell me more." 

"She's wonderful, Benny. Just wonderful. She's so sweet and kind. She's funny and smart too..." 

~~~~~~

Four days later, Fraser was well enough to be transferred out of the ICU to a private room on the third floor. Ray had given up his vigil and started to go back home to sleep at night. The first night back, his bed was so welcoming and warm, he slept soundly for nearly 24 hours. He was disoriented when he woke up and needed much convincing from his family that he had truly missed a full day. 

Ray was frantic. "What about Fraser? How is he? Did anyone check on him today?" 

"He's fine, caro! We all went down to see him. He had dinner with us. I made Chicken Pastorella and Zabaglione. He ate well. Much better than you have." 

Ray sighed with relief. "Thanks, Ma." A worried look crossed his face. "Frannie didn't bother him much, did she?" 

"No! She didn't bother Benton at all." Mrs. Vecchio's smile was huge. "As a matter of fact, Francesca has a date with a doctor." 

"Yeah? Who?" 

"His name is Frank Brincheiro. He's a ..." 

"Neurologist", mother and son said simultaneously. 

Ray shook his head in resignation. "Well, I just hope he doesn't take it out on Fraser." 

"Did you say something, Raymondo?" 

"No Ma. Do we have any chicken left?" 

"Plenty. Sit down." 

Ray was famished and the food was delicious. For nearly two weeks, his mother had kept the nursing staff well fed, but Ray wasn't hungry and ate very little. Now his appetite had returned ten-fold and he ate like a starving man. 

"Speaking of dates, when are you going to call Jennifer?" 

Ray nearly choked on his food. "You know about Jennifer?" 

"Certainly! We've spoken every night. She called last Monday night and we told her what was happening. She's very sweet, Raymondo. She calls nightly to see how you and Benton are doing." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"You were busy with other things. She understands." 

"She calls nightly! What time does she call?" 

"Around nine. Frannie and Maria have gotten to know her and they love her. Frannie says if you don't marry her, she will." 

It was twenty minutes to nine now. Ray realized that he'd have to hurry. He'd have to shower, shave, and get dressed. He wanted to look his best when he spoke with Jennifer. 

When the phone rang at 9 o'clock, Ray was ready. He lifted the receiver with a trembling hand and his heart swelled as he heard the voice that filled him with hope and wonderful memories of New York. He pulled the phone into his room and closed the door. 

### 14.

Fraser was thankful to be finally out of the ICU. Away from the constant  
surveillance. Away from the constantly beeping monitors. He quickly settled  
into the routine of the general medical-surgical floor.

Physical therapy was twice a day to increase his strength and endurance. He could laugh when he thought about that. Endurance. He could take three steps before the room began to spin and the therapist would quickly haul him back to bed before he fell flat on his face. He was very unsteady on his feet as well, so the therapist gave him a cane to help him with his balance. 

Antibiotics were given to him around the clock; one every 4 hours, two every 6 hours. There was an IV line in his chest which was placed there the Sunday night he came into the emergency room. Not that he remembered it of course, but he was grateful that the IV wasn't in his arms as he didn't especially like it when the site had to be changed. Dr. Miles, the neurosurgeon, had remarked that during his surgery, they would change the IV to a permanent one which would be burrowed under his skin. Because he would continue to need antibiotics for about 8 weeks after his discharge. He would be able to shower with the permanent IV and it would be less prone to infection. 

Surgery. Fraser frowned at the thought. He remembered when he was floating in the barbituate coma that Ray was saying something about surgery. Judging from the pain in his back, he thought he already had it. He was dismayed when he realized he still had to face it yet. Fraser had trusted the doctors when they said surgery was necessary. 

However, Ray and the extensive Vecchio clan hadn't and questioned every doctor, every surgeon that they knew for a second, third, and fourth opinion. All reports were the same; the abscess would most likely refill. The surgery would be needed to prevent paralysis and hopefully not cause it. No guarantees. 

Well, he still had some time yet. The neurologist and neurosurgeon wanted him on antibiotics for at least another ten days before they even considered a surgical date. Hopefully, he would gain some strength and go into surgery as strong as possible. 

*Not likely*, was the flip side of that thought. The antibiotics were being given around the clock. No matter how quietly the nurse would enter the room, Fraser would always awaken. His rest was continually interrupted denying him much needed healing sleep. During his brief episodes of deep sleep, he'd have vivid dreams of Victoria and of the shooting. He would awaken from the exhausted sleep trembling with his heart pounding. 

In addition, the antibiotics had caused diarrhea. Fraser had been warned about it and per his grandmother's teachings, had begun to order plain yogurt with every meal. The yogurt was no match for the powerful antibiotics. Fraser suffered for three days with "frequent stools" and he vaguely wondered if he should mention it to anyone. No. He answered his own thought even before it became a question. He was acutely embarrassed by this and didn't want anyone to know. *For heaven's sake, they might order a specimen!* He shuddered at the thought and decided some things were best left private. 

### 15.

Fraser was becoming increasingly weak and finding it difficult to make  
the washroom. Mortified that he should soil himself or that anyone would  
find out, he asked Ray to put a small plastic chair in the washroom under  
the pretense that he could sit down and wash himself in the mornings.  
He did, so it wasn't a complete lie. But he also found himself sitting  
in the chair almost the entire day and night.

Except for the antibiotic administrations, physical therapy, meals, and visiting hours, he was left mostly undisturbed. Fraser knew the approximate times that everything was due, so it was not a problem to limp back to the bed for the appropriate medications and visits. Ray would always come by after he was done at the precinct, around five. His neighbors, whoever had the available car or fare for public transportation that day, would visit and tell him all about the others and the small happenings at the apartment house. 

Mrs. Garcia had just left and he glanced at his watch. He still had plenty of time until Ray's visit. He sat in the orange chair in the bathroom. 

"This is quite comfortable actually. It lacks a view however." 

Fraser glanced around at the commode, sink, and glaring fluorescent light. He had to admit it was much easier to move in the chair than in the bed. The mattress was soft and would also press against an increasingly tender area on the right side of his spine. 

He carefully adjusted his back so that the left side, not the right, was in contact with the back of the chair. He shifted his long legs in various positions. 

"I wish I could get my legs more comfortable though." 

He glanced at his watch again. Ray's visit was next on the schedule. He still had a little more time until he needed to make his way back to the bed. So, he rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes... 

The house was littered. Nothing was in its place. Everything was thrown about. He was on his knees digging through layers of books, knick-knacks; the insignificant possessions of a life. He was panicked. He had to find something. To his horror he realized a body was lying underneath the heaps. He threw aside some framed photographs and uncovered Ray. A shocked and pained expression stared up at him. 

"Fraser?", Ray said quietly, with a voice full of hurt and disbelief. 

Fraser brought his hands up and saw that his fingers were bloody and he held a shredded heart in his hands. 

"Fraser?" 

"Ray!", he heard himself scream as he bolted upright. 

"Ray!" 

"Fraser, hey, be careful, buddy, you'll fall out of that chair." 

"Ray?" 

"Benny, it's OK. You fell asleep in the bathroom. You all right?" 

Fraser came out of his dream slowly. He eventually realized that they were crowded together in the tiny bathroom with Ray standing over him. With his heart pounding, he was clutching at Ray's overcoat. He shook his head trying to cast away the last remnants of an exhausted sleep. 

"I'm all right. I'm all right. I just had a nightmare, that's all." 

"Let's get you back to bed." 

Ray reached over to the corner to retrieve Fraser's cane, then handed it to him. 

"How long have you been asleep in the chair?" 

*About 72 hours.* 

"Not long. I just got weak in the washroom and had to rest a moment. I must have dozed off." 

What little strength Fraser had was nearly gone and he leaned heavily on Ray as they made their way back to the bed. Ray helped settle him into bed and Fraser winced as his tender back came in contact with the mattress. 

"Benny, are you all right? You don't look so good." 

"I'm fine. Just worn out, that's all." 

Ray shifted uncomfortably in his chair and rubbed his hands together. 

"Guess what?" 

"What?" 

"Frannie's been seeing a doctor. Socially." 

"Really? Who?" 

"Dr. Brincheiro. He's a smart guy. I was hoping he would come to his senses." 

Fraser could not contain the surprised look on his face. 

"Well that's..." 

"You don't think he'll try something do you?" 

"Now, Ray. Francesca is a bright young woman capable of handling herself in any..." 

"No. No. Frannie'll be fine. I meant you. You don't think he'll plan like revenge or something? After all, you did introduce them." 

"Ray, I don't think..." 

"I know that Fraser. I sometimes wonder about you." 

"Ah." 

The conversation had just taken a strange turn and Fraser was trying to think of the best way to deal with it. He was relieved when he had to go to the washroom. 

"Excuse me, Ray. I'll be right back." 

"Where are you going?" 

"To the washroom." 

"You just came out of the bathroom." 

Fraser fumbled with his cane and struggled to stand. 

"Yes. And now I have to go back in." 

Ray watched Fraser enter the bathroom and close the door. He swung the little television around and turned it on. As it began to glow and hum, Ray was thankful that at least Benny had a TV *this* time. 

The evening news was on and Ray settled back to watch the sports highlights. He was quickly absorbed in the highlights of the Bulls game. 

"Ray?" 

"Hmmm?" 

*Jesus. The Bulls lost to the Philadelphia 76ers. Wow, the Bulls sure had a bad night. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves could beat the 76ers.* 

The clatter of the cane hitting the floor made him turn from the TV. Fraser was on his knees by the bathroom door. Fraser's shoulder pressed against the jamb was the only thing that kept him from pitching face first onto the floor. Ray bolted from his chair and ran to Fraser just as he saw his friend's eyes roll up into his head and his body twist around the door. He caught him around the chest just inches before he slammed to the floor. As Ray settled Fraser onto the floor, he glimpsed the bulging abscess on his back. 

### 16.

Fraser was happily spinning in fuzzy warmth. Sounds were small and far  
away, so easy to ignore. He smiled and tried to return to the sensations.  
The warmth was quickly receding and he was rushing toward insistent noises  
demanding his attention. Was someone talking to him? Sounds floated around  
him and someone was telling him to breathe...stop holding your breath  
Benton.

"Did he hit his head?" 

"No. I caught him. Benny?" 

"Janine get the orderlies in here and notify Dr. Brincheiro. He'll need to be examined. And bring back some saline and gauze for his knees." 

"The abscess is bulging again." 

Fraser felt disoriented and slowly opened his eyes to assess the situation. Whatever that was. Ray and several members of the nursing staff whom he recognized encircled him. Aromatic ammonia assaulted his nostrils, coughing, he turned his head away. 

"Benny? You back with us?" 

"Ray? What happened?" 

"You fainted. You, OK?" 

"I suddenly felt dizzy. I'm fine now." 

Fraser made an abortive effort to move. Two burly orderlies appeared in the doorway behind the cluster of people gathered around Fraser. Ray and the orderlies helped a weaving Fraser back to bed. 

"My shoulder hurts." 

"Your knees are bleeding too." 

After he was settled into bed, Fraser's vital signs were taken; the minor abrasions on his knees were washed with saline and gauze bandages applied. The nurse and Ray shared a concerned glance as she examined Fraser's back and noted that there was a definite bulge by the bullet scar. An ice bag was placed on the bruised right shoulder and the nurse left the room. 

"Benny, you're not looking too good. Can I get you anything? Water? Juice?" 

"Nothing. Thank you." 

Ray was consumed with worry. The abscess was refilling. It wasn't huge like when he found Fraser that Sunday night but it was larger than it had been in the ICU. 

*Oh my God. Its happening just like they said it would. Why aren't the antibiotics working?* 

"Ray, are you OK?" 

"I'm fine, Benny. Just worried about you. That's all." 

Fraser sat up and tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed. It took more strength than he currently had and he fell back onto the bed. 

"And just where are you going?", Ray said in his best maternal-like tone. 

"To the washroom." 

"No, you're not." 

"Please, Ray. Its important." 

"Fraser, you are not moving from this bed." 

Ray put a hand to Fraser's chest effectively halting any forward movement. Fraser struggled against the restraining hand. 

"Ray! Stop this! I must get to the washroom. Now!" 

A sudden cramp made him wince and clutch his mid-section. 

"Go ahead then, Fraser. I'd like to see you try. You just toddle off to the bathroom." 

Fraser, a panicked look on his face, struggled to sit up. His reserves of strength were depleted and he fell back onto the bed. 

*Oh no. This is it. I'm going to soil myself.* 

He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes and tried not to cry. 

"Fraser, what in the hell is going on?" 

Fraser took a deep breath but kept his hands pressed to his eyes. 

"Please promise not to tell anyone." 

Ray nodded. "You have my word." 

Fraser removed his hands from his face but he couldn't look at Ray. "I'm having....frequent stools, Ray." 

"Frequent stools? What the f...diarrhea? You're having diarrhea? 

"Not...", Fraser lowered his voice dramatically on the offending word, "...diarrhea. Frequent stools." 

Seeing his friend's embarrassment, Ray tried not to scream. "Frequent stools! Diarrhea! Its the same thing! A rose by any other name Fraser. How long have you been having diarrhea?" 

"Three days." 

"Three days! And did you tell anyone?" 

"No." 

"Fraser! How could you be so stupid! Diarrhea..." 

"Frequent stools, Ray." 

"Diarrhea, frequent stools, whatever! It kills people! You're going to have surgery. You should be getting stronger, not weaker." 

### 17.

"Please, Ray. Help me to the washroom."

"No. You shouldn't be walking. I'll get you the bedpan." 

It was Fraser's turn to scream. "No! Ray, please! Help me!" 

"Arrggh!" Ray grabbed Fraser under the arms and pulled him upright. "And Fraser, if I find you buns up in the bathroom don't blame me." 

"Certainly not, Ray. Can we go now please?" 

Ray hauled the Mountie the short distance to the bathroom while Fraser groaned and held his abdomen. 

Once he got Fraser to the bathroom door, Fraser supported himself on the walls and turned to shut the door. 

"I'll be fine, Ray." 

"Famous last words", he heard Ray comment just as the door closed. 

Dr. Brincheiro knocked softly on the door. "Ray." 

"Hey, Frank." 

A smiling Dr. Brincheiro crossed the room and shook hands with Ray. "I hear Mr. Fraser is causing some trouble." 

"Yeah. You could say that. He's been having diarrhea for three days and hasn't told anyone." 

"Ray!" The admonishment was muffled behind the closed door. "You gave me your word you wouldn't tell anyone." 

"Yeah, well sue me." 

Even behind the closed door, Fraser could hear the tsk-tsking in Dr. Brincheiro's voice. "You should have told us, Mr. Fraser. This is serious. Nothing to be embarrassed about." 

"That's what I told him. The abscessed area has started to bulge too. I noticed it when I was laying him on the floor. Why aren't the antibiotics working?" 

This was news to Fraser who lifted his hand to his back and felt a small mass there. 

*Oh dear.* 

The two men outside the door heard the commode flush and then the water being turned on at the bathroom sink. 

"Mr. Fraser, I'd like you to get back to bed as soon as possible." 

"Yes, certainly Dr. Brin..." 

It was hard to hear over the running water but the two men on the outside of the door didn't like the distant floating sound of the voice behind the door. Ray threw it open just in time to catch Fraser as he slid down the wall heading for the floor. 

When Fraser revived he was back in bed, carried there by Ray and Dr. Brincheiro. Fraser was examined and blood samples were taken. He was given some medication and the antibiotics were changed. An IV was restarted to replace lost fluids. Dr. Brincheiro left to confer with Dr. Miles concerning the growing abscess. Ray stepped into the hallway to call home to tell them he'd be late. 

Fraser felt terrible. He was weakend, in pain, and close to exhaustion. He knew that he couldn't make it to the washroom alone. He'd have to ring for the bedpan all night. As if that wasn't bad enough, thanks to Ray, everyone would know he was having...frequent stools. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head. *Can this get any worse?* 

"Mr. Fraser?" 

He opened his eyes and saw a young nurse standing beside the bed with a stack of plastic cups in her hand. Her instructions, despite being vague, were crystal clear. 

"Next time ya go, ya know, put some in here. 'kay?" She turned to put the cups in the bathroom. 

His courageous heart froze. Stool specimens. And judging from the amount of containers she had, they would want alot. Ray. When he had the chance he'd have to thank Ray. 

The anti-diarrheal medication was opium based and combined with his exhaustion put Fraser into a deep sleep quickly. Ray watched his friend sleep and then moved to the window to watch the Chicago night. He wanted to wait to hear the results of the phone conference with Dr. Miles before he left. The significance of the enlarging abscess had Ray deep in thought. 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he never saw or heard Fraser stand up and start to walk to the bathroom. It was the clinking of the IV bottle against it's metal pole that got Ray's attention. Fraser was sleepily heading towards the washroom, the IV and IV pole forgotten. The tubing was stretched its full length and the IV pole had begun to tip. 

For the third time in less than an hour, Ray made another save. He ran to Fraser and physically blocked him, preventing him from walking any furthur. He wrapped his left arm around his waist, supporting him, while his right hand went up and gave a little push to straighten the tipping pole. 

"Fraser! You should be in bed. I'll get you the bedpan." 

"No, Ray. I can't do that. Please. I need to get to the washroom." 

It would have been so easy to bully Fraser back to bed and read him the riot act. But Ray looked into his friend's pleading eyes. His best friend had been through alot and *still* had alot yet to face. He decided to spare him at least one indignity. He would escort Fraser back and fourth to the bathroom all night. 

"OK, Fraser. But don't faint on me this time, OK?" 

"I won't. And I forgive you for embarrassing me Ray. You were right after all." 

Ray had no idea what Fraser was talking about, attributed it to the medications, and decided not to pursue it. "Why thank you, Fraser. That means alot to me." 

With the IV fluids fortifying him, Fraser made it back to the bed without incident. Ray spoke to the nurse and told her he'd be staying the night. A cot was brought into the room for him. 

Dr. Brincheiro returned to the room after speaking with Dr. Miles. They all agreed that the abscess refilling was worrisome and that surgery should be as soon as possible. The antibiotics were already changed and now they would watch and wait. Watch that the abscess didn't enlarge and that Fraser didn't physically worsen; wait until his blood work showed an absence of infection. In a few days when his physical signs and blood work were promising, Fraser's surgery would be scheduled for the next day. 

The night passed slowly and Ray lost count of the trips made to the bathroom. 

### 18.

Four days later, Fraser's white blood cell count and temperatures were  
normal and the abscessed area had decreased in size. This was the opportune  
moment and surgery was scheduled for the next day. Because of the infection,  
Fraser was considered a "dirty case" and his operation was scheduled  
to be the last case of the afternoon.

Upon hearing this, the entire Vecchio family wanted to be with Fraser and have dinner with him the night before surgery. Mrs. Vecchio had made Frutti de Mare for the occasion.

Ray refused to even consider having his family there with Fraser tonight. He argued with them loudly as he only took enough Frutti de Mare for two. His family eating and clustered around Fraser gave him visions of The Last Supper. He shuddered at the unpleasant parallel. No. There would be a "Welcome Home" party later. Tonight it would be just the two of them. 

They ate together quietly, speaking of the small doings of the Vecchio family or precinct news. Dr. Miles and Dr. Brincheiro entered the room just as they finished their meal to explain the surgery and answer any questions. 

They gave Fraser his options one last time. 

Dr. Miles spoke. "The abscess is in the area of the T-8 vertebrae. The nerves there effect the body from the diaphram down. If things don't go as well during surgery as we want them to, you could spend the rest of your life paralyzed and ventilator dependent, Mr. Fraser." 

"I am aware of that." Fraser took the offered form and pen from Dr. Miles and signed the consent. 

There was only one question that Ray wanted answered although no he knew no answer could be given. "No guarantees" resounded through his head. 

Visiting hours were nearly over when Ray noticed the two bottles of sudsy iodine solution, washcloths, and towels on Fraser's bedside table. 

"What's all this?", he asked as he nudged the items. 

"Well in preparation for surgery tomorrow I have to scrub my back with this iodine solution for 20 minutes. I have to do it again in the morning, sometime after 10AM, so the second bottle is for then." 

"And they expect you to do this alone?" 

"Well no. The nurse...she offered to...to help of course...but I couldn't..." 

Ray was thankful he hadn't left yet or else Fraser would have tried to manage this on his own. 

"Let's go Benny. I'll help you. We'll figure it out." 

The orange plastic chair, that Ray had set in the bathroom for Fraser so many days ago, was now moved into the shower stall. To his relief, Ray noticed that the shower head was the hand held type. 

Ray collected the iodine, washcloths, towels, and Fraser and went into the bathroom. He settled Fraser on the plastic chair and folded a towel which the Mountie kept pressed against the IV in his chest. 

Fraser held the shower head over his shoulder while Ray scrubbed his back. Medicinal smelling bubbles floated everywhere. Ray paid special attention to scrubbing the area around the bullet scar, being careful not to press too hard, since he noticed Fraser would flinch each time the area was touched. 

Ray frequently consulted his watch to check the time. He would not even consider ending before the twenty minutes were up. The warm water lasted the length of the shower. Fraser dried himself and Ray helped him to put on a hospital gown. They walked back to bed together and Ray got Fraser situated in bed. 

"Thank you, Ray. I could never have done that on my own." 

"No problem, Benny. I'll be back tomorrow sometime after 10 and I'll help you again." 

"I'd appreciate that." 

"Good night, Benny. Try to get some sleep. See you in the morning." 

"Good night, Ray. See you then." 

Ray had no memory of arriving at home or sleeping that night. 

~~~~~~

Ray returned the next day promptly at 10 A.M. and Fraser looked like Ray felt. Awful. He was pale with hallow dark circled eyes. When he saw Ray, he gave him a trembling half smile. Ray's throat constricted at the sight of his friend and he didn't trust himself to speak. 

"Hey, Benny. How 'bout we do that shower?" 

A faint answering nod was his response. 

They went through the same procedure that they had followed the previous night. But because hospital activity was in full bloom at that hour, the warm water only lasted about 15 minutes. The last minutes of the scrub, Fraser was bathed in chilly water. He began to tremble. Ray said "Sorry, Benny" many times. Ray was apologizing for the cold water; apologizing for the shooting; apologizing for what his friend had to go through. 

Ray was relieved when the 20 minutes were up and he could turn off the now cold water. He shut he water off and draped a towel over Fraser's trembling torso. 

"We're done, Benny." 

Fraser's face was pressed into the corner of the shower and he nodded to acknowledge Ray's statement. But he didn't move and his trembling seemed worse to Ray. 

"Benny. We're done." 

No movement, no verbal response, just another nod. 

"Benny?" 

Ray took his friend by the shoulders and gently turned him around. To his surprise, he saw that Fraser was crying. And now he looked embarrassed too. 

"I'm scared, Ray." 

Ray reached down and held his friend tightly, holding him, stroking his hair, talking softly to him while Fraser cried. His own anguished tears fell in Fraser's hair. 

"We'll get through this. We'll get through this", was the only thing of comfort he could think to say. 

Ray was the first to come back to the moment. He held Fraser until he heard him quiet. 

"Fraser?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"I'm standing here in the shower hugging you and you're naked. If anyone sees us, we're gonna have alot of explaining to do." 

He heard Fraser give a small laugh and say into his wet silk shirt, "You're absolutely right. This could be easily misconstrued." 

Fraser slowly pulled away from him and Ray could see the laughter in the Mountie's eyes. Fraser gave him one more quick embrace. 

"Thank you, Ray." 

~~~~~~

The afternoon passed slowly and Ray found it hard to contain his agitation. When he sat, he squirmed. When he couldn't sit, he paced. When he paced, he wanted to scream. Fraser was quiet and did his best to calm Ray but realized it was useless. He found distraction in his father's journals. 

### 19.

Finally at 4 P.M., a short, middle-aged nurse, almost as wide as she  
was tall, entered the room. "Benton, we've heard from the OR. They'll  
be here for you in about 20 minutes."

"Thank you, Alma." 

"I'll be back shortly to go through the chart and to give you some medications. Once I give you the injection, you won't be allowed out of bed again so you might want to use the restroom before I get back." 

"Understood." 

Ray watched Fraser as he crossed the room to use the restroom and then helped get him settled in bed when he returned. A sudden thought made Ray's throat constrict and his heart clench. 

*That may have been the last time Benny ever walks.* 

He didn't trust himself to speak or even look at Fraser, so he turned abruptly and looked out the window. 

Much to Ray's relief, the nurse returned with a thick chart and a syringe. 

Alma took Fraser's vital signs and then flipped through the chart asking Fraser a few questions about allergies and verifying his signature and the spelling of his name. She checked his ID bracelet. 

"OK, Benton, I have an injection for you. Could you excuse us, Ray?" 

"Yeah, sure. No problem." 

"Thanks, Ray." 

Ray exited the room and closed the door behind him. He could hear Alma's voice through the door. 

"It's just one injection, Benton, but there are three medications in here. One will make you sleepy, one will make your mouth dry, and one will make you a little bit forgetful. When you wake up you probably won't remember too much about this." 

Ray pressed his head against the wall. *Forget. That would be nice. I wonder if they'd have any extra for me?* 

Alma's voice interrupted his thoughts. "No. It doesn't go in your arm. It needs to go back here." The words "back here" were emphasized by a patting sound. 

Ray smiled. He could just imagine Fraser offering his arm and then turning crimson when he realized the intended destination of the injection. 

"OK. There you go. All done. Now don't get out of bed for any reason", Alma said, as she walked around the bed, raising the siderails. "The orderlies should be here in a few more minutes." 

When Ray re-entered the room, Fraser was just the shade of red he'd imagined. *Just like Benny to be embarrassed about getting a shot from a 50 year old nurse.* 

"Hey, Benny. You, OK?" 

"Fine. It stings, that's all." Fraser squirmed in the bed a little and rubbed his buttock trying to lessen the discomfort of the injection. 

"Maybe Alma needs to practice on a few more oranges." 

Fraser arranged himself as comfortably as possible and let out a sigh. "Thank you for being here, Ray." 

To answer "My pleasure" just didn't sound quite right to Ray so he gave Fraser a tiny smile and just nodded. 

"You haven't eaten all day. Will you get something to eat?" 

"Nah. I'm not too hungry. Maybe later." 

Ray sat in the chair beside the bed and saw that his hands were shaking. He stared at the floor. He couldn't think of a thing to say. Maybe if he wasn't so close to tears, maybe if his heart didn't feel like it was being shredded, maybe if his soul didn't feel anguished, maybe he could think of something to say. Say something brilliant, profound, or comforting. Say anything. Nothing. He could think of nothing to say except for his old mantra, "I'm sorry, Benny. So very sorry." 

"Hmmm?" 

He glanced up at Fraser and saw that he was on the verge of sleep. His eyes were glazed from the medications and as his eyes drifted shut, he would blink furiously in an attempt to keep them open. His lips were parted and his breathing deep and regular. 

Ray reached over and stroked his forearm. "Close your eyes, Benny. Go to sleep." 

Fraser managed another "Hmmm" as he let his eyes close. 

The orderlies didn't come as fast as Alma had said, so when they did arrive, Fraser was sleeping soundly. Ray, Alma, and the two orderlies transferred Fraser onto the OR stretcher. After Alma had gotten a pillow under Fraser's head, Ray saw that the nurse slipped one of those stupid looking green paper showercaps on his head. Ray frowned thinking that the Mountie wouldn't approve. 

*Nah. Benny wouldn't mind. He likes goofy looking hats.* 

Ray walked beside the stretcher as it made its way to the OR, his hand on Fraser's forearm the entire way. He didn't care what the orderlies might think. 

The automatic doors to the OR had closed and his last glimpse of the green hat travelling down the hallway had long disappeared. Ray just stood looking at the doors. 

~~~~~~ 

"Ray?" 

He sat alone in the OR waiting room crumpled in a chair. His restless energy had dissipated and left him numb and exhausted. He stupidly thought his wound was getting better. No. The pain in his heart was physical now and only by keeping his fists clenched in his stomach did he keep himself from screaming in agony. 

"Ray?" The question was accompanied by a gentle shake to his shoulder. 

He looked up and saw that his family had arrived enmass. 

"Hey, guys. Hey, Ma." 

Everyone was talking at once. 

"Have you heard anything about Benton?" 

"How long has he been in surgery?" 

He answered the questions as he stood and returned eveyone's embrace. 

..."No I haven't heard anything yet."... 

..."About 2 hours I guess."... 

The entire waiting room was empty except for the Vecchio family. From force of habit, Ray supposed, they stayed huddled together in one tiny corner, giving one another support and comfort. For the eighth time that day, Mrs. Vecchio took out her rosary beads and began to pray. 

### 20.

Maria and the kids went off in search of vending machines; Frannie went  
off in search of Frank Brincheiro.

Ray stood by the window. *Jesus! 6 hours! What's happening?* He tried to search his memory to recall if the doctors had given any estimate of the surgical time. He was sure they did but he was damned if he could remember. 

"Ray." 

He turned as he heard Dr. Miles calling him. The doctor's scrub was sticking to him from sweat and he looked exhausted. As he approached, Ray saw everything he needed to know from the doctor's anguished eyes. 

"Ray, I'm sorry. The abscess and scar tissue were enmeshed around Mr. Fraser's spinal nerves. We were able to incise the abscess and drain it. It was the dissection of the nerves from the scar tissue that caused problems. When we reversed the anesthesia, Mr. Fraser couldn't breathe on his own or move his legs. The nerves could be traumatized from the surgery and regain function in time or we may have to face the very real possibility that Mr. Fraser is paralyzed and ventilator dependent. We just don't know yet." 

The gasps and sobs from the Vecchio family were loud in the silence. 

"When can I see him?" 

"Right now. Let's hurry because he probably won't be awake much longer. He was given some pain medication not too long ago and because of the danger of seizures, he's been given some phenobarbital. He'll sleep for hours. We told him we were getting you so he's trying to stay awake." 

"Does he know?" 

Dr. Miles nodded. "He knows." 

Ray left the now crying and praying Vecchios and followed the doctor. 

The recovery room was quiet except for the now familiar ventilator hiss and the heart monitor beeps. Ray followed Dr. Miles around a partially drawn curtain to where Fraser lay. 

Against the green surgical sheets, the Mountie looked deathly pale. The breathing tube was down his throat and securely taped to his face. He had a large bulky dressing on his chest from where they had inserted the permanent IV under his skin. Ray noticed that his hands were tied down again. Fraser was senseless and immobile and Ray couldn't stand to look at him any more like this. He leaned forward and spoke softly in his ear. 

"Benny?" 

Fraser was floating in black warmth, the pain in his back a distant sensation. He knew that something had gone very wrong. For the past hour the doctors had been anxiously testing his legs and reflexes. They also tried to get him off the ventilator with almost disasterous results. Long seconds had passed and he thought he was suffocating, until the nurse and anesthetist realized he wasn't breathing and quickly placed him back on the ventilator. 

The nurse had asked him if wanted to see Ray and he managed a tiny nod. 

Distant and very far away, he heard Ray speaking to him. With a herculean effort, he opened his eyes and saw Ray standing over him. Ray was radiating anguish. 

### 21.

Ray was speaking to him garbled words he could not understand. Then Ray  
leaned over him and carefully maneuvered his hand around the tubes that  
were coming out of Fraser's mouth and placed his warm open hand against  
Fraser's cheek. Ray then came close until his lips were pressed to Fraser's  
forehead.

Fraser felt Ray's tears falling gently against his face. 

In over a quarter of a century, no one had held him like this. His mother had been the last, on the night she died. Then like now, he was frightened because he knew something was very wrong. His mother came into his room and held him like Ray was doing now. He pretended to be asleep, afraid to let her know he was awake, because she might say goodbye. "If she doesn't say goodbye, she can't leave", his childish heart told him. Her tears, like Ray's now, fell across his brow. 

Stinging tears gathered in his eyes and Fraser began to cry. Crying because he never returned his mother's last embrace; crying because of his thoughtless, impulsive decision at the train station; crying because of the anguish and torment he was causing his beloved friend. The tears rolled down from the corners of his eyes. 

After a long moment, Ray pulled away from him. 

The last thing Fraser remembered as the pain medication became effective and he fell asleep, was Ray drying his tears. 

Ray found his way back to the OR Waiting Room and his family. 

"Ma, I gotta go. Please stay with Benny." 

Crying, she tightly embraced her son. "I will. I will stay with him, Raymondo." 

He turned and left the room. There was some place he needed to be. 

~~~~~~

The non-sectarian hospital didn't have a chapel; it had a Quiet Room. Ray had passed it many times but never entered. It was the sanctuary that he was looking for. The room was rounded and painted ivory. A row of stained glass windows, whose colors even shown in the night, were placed just below the ceiling. 

Soft overhead lighting illuminated a tapestry that dominated almost half the circumference of the room. Tiny needlepoint stitches of thousands of colors filled the tapestry. It depicted a forest glade with purple mountains rising in the distance. A doe with her fawn peeked out from behind flowering fruit trees and colorful birds filled the air and flew from tree to tree. There was a brook in the foreground where glistening rainbow trout swam under cool blue water. At the base of the mountains stood a little cabin with yellow light coming from a window. Ray had never seen such a work of art. 

There was a plaque and a photo next to the tapestry telling its story. The needlepoint was created by a woman to thank the hospital staff for taking such good care of her daughter as she was dying. It took years to create and finish. When she presented it to the hospital, they wanted to hang it in the lobby. Mrs. Adams, the artist, disagreed and suggested it would be better suited for the hospital's Quiet Room where those grieving for loved ones might find some comfort. The suggestion was perfect and the hospital officials readily agreed. 

There was a photo of Mrs. Adams and her daughter beside the plaque. The African-American woman was tiny and her daughter's arms were draped around her shoulders. Their faces were pressed together and they were smiling for the camera. It was clear that these women loved one another as such joy was in their eyes. 

Ray caressed the photo of Mrs. Adams and her daughter with his fingertips and wished them both peace. He admired the woman who could turn her tragedy into a work of art. This was where he needed to be. The tapestry reminded him of Canada and Fraser's Inuit stories to which he would only half listen. The symbol of his own Christian ideology was in his right pocket. Like a Medieval knight, he knelt before the tapestry, drew the rosary beads form his pocket, and began to pray. 

~~~~~~

An ancient feeling stirred deep within his breast. It was something he hadn't felt in years. A woman was here. 

He had dreams of running. Running around a tiny cabin, laughing, trying to escape her but her arms were everywhere. She easily scooped up the small child into her arms and kissed him and tickled him until he was breathless from laughter. 

Warmth. He knew he was wanted and loved. His heart swelled. She was here now. 

*Mum?* 

Yes it was the same but not quite the same. 

Lyrical Italian filled his ears. A hand was running through his thick hair and occasionally a thumb would lightly caress his brow, his closed lids, and stroke down the bridge of his nose. She was singing softly. He detected the scent of bread and sugar. 

*Mrs. Vecchio?* 

She was speaking to him, the words "Benton" and "caro" were the only ones he could understand. His eyelids fluttered open and his tired eyes focused on Mrs. Vecchio and Maria each on either side of the bed, holding his hands. The sturdy tape that held the endotracheal tube securely down his throat also firmly held his lips and facial muscles. The best he could manage was a crooked half smile. 

Mrs. Vecchio smiled and her eyes were filled with tears. She bent over and kissed him. 

Maria was crying too. "Hi, Benton." 

Across his body, Mrs. Vecchio said something to Maria in Italian and the only word Fraser understood was "Raymondo". Maria quickly turned and walked away. 

He was so weak, he couldn't move his head but he turned his eyes towards Mrs. Vecchio and continued to give her his best half smile. Fraser slowly raised the hand that Maria had been holding and tried to grip the tube that was down his throat. Mrs. Vecchio intercepted the hand and held it against Fraser's chest. 

"No, Benton. You can't touch that. You are getting stronger...don't worry. It will be out soon." 

"Hey, Benny." 

He turned his eyes from Mrs. Vecchio and his gaze fell on Ray who looked awful. 

*Oh dear. He's been worrying too much.* 

Ray was smiling at him and took the hand that his mother had captured. 

"Are you feeling any better, Benny?" 

Fraser answered with a blink of his eyes and a tiny nod of his head. 

"Good. You'll be outta here in no time. They got the abscess drained real good Benny. Dr. Miles doesn't think it'll bother you again." 

They could see the thankfulness in Fraser's eyes. Ray looked pained at his next question. 

"Benny, can you wiggle your toes?" 

*Wiggle my toes? That's an odd question...oh yes...of course. That's why we're here after all.* 

Fraser concentrated on wiggling his toes. He looked at the faces surrounding him. All three Vecchios were staring at his feet. Maria must have removed the blankets from them so they could get a better look. He could feel cool air encircling them. 

*Wiggle my toes...wiggle my toes. Now just how does one... There! Did I do it?* 

He glanced at the Vecchios surrounding him and Ray looked stricken. He was pale with his eyes wide and his mouth drawn in a thin line. He was barely breathing. 

*Hmmm. Maybe not.* 

Fraser concentrated fiercely. *Maybe if I...* 

The sudden yells at the bedside made Fraser's eyes widen and his heart pound in shock. Mrs. Vecchio burst into tears, crossed herself and then kissed Fraser on the cheek. Ray and Maria were both crying as brother and sister hugged one another. Ray returned his attention back to Fraser and kissed his brow. 

"You did good, Benny. Real good. You can stop wiggling your toes now." 

*Oh yes. Certainly, Ray.* 

The reaction of the Vecchio family had been unexpected. Was there something going on that he didn't know about? He'd think about that later. Right now he was exhausted and was rapidly weakening. The Vecchios seemed increasingly far away, their voices distant. Ray's hand was stroking his hair. 

"It's alright, Benny. Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." 

*Good. I'd like that.* With the little strength he had left, he squeezed the hands that held his. Fraser's eyes closed and he tumbled back into unconsciousness. 

Ray stood at the bedside and looked at his sleeping friend. He closed his eyes and sent a prayer heavenward thanking God that maybe Fraser would be alright afterall. He thought back to the Quiet Room that had given him such peace and comfort. His thoughts floated once again to see the beautiful tapestry. It was so vivid in his mind that he could almost hear the colorful birds chirping. His eyes shot open at the word. 

*Chirping!* 

Ray glanced at the ventilator beside him and there it was for all to see and hear. The blinking light and the sweetest sounding chirp he'd ever heard, even if it was mechanical. For the first time in weeks, Ray truly felt happy. 

### 22.

The Mountie was pouting. Ray never thought it could  
happen but there was Fraser, sitting before him, arms crossed over his  
chest, not looking him in the eye, in a pout that could rival those of  
his 3 year-old niece Isabella.

Fraser had recovered from his surgery but not from his illness. The abscess was incised and hopefully would never return. However, antibiotics were still needed and the large incision on his back was pustulant and had to be irrigated. Occasional fever spikes and bouts of 'frequent stools' had left him debilitated. Physical therapy was strengthening him and increasing his activity tolerance but he was still very unsteady on his feet and dependent on a cane to maintain his balance. Despite all this and as discharge from the hospital loomed, Fraser was insisting he could return to his apartment. And as usual, Ray was telling him *again* why that would only happen over his dead body. 

"Fraser, you cannot go back to your apartment. How are you going to eat? The slightest amount of activity and you pass out cold for 10 hours. If you're by yourself, you'll be missing...I don't even wanna *think* about how many meals you'll be missing. Remember last Saturday?" 

Fraser rolled his eyes and sighed. Last Saturday. Because the physical therapist wouldn't be in on Sunday and despite her warnings and caution, Fraser insisted on a thorough work out. She escorted him up and down the long hallway three times as he pushed himself past his physical limit. Ray had come to visit just as Fraser was being wheeled back into his room, dizzy, weak, and sweating from exertion, unable to complete the walk back. It was 11AM when the therapist and Ray had gotten him back into bed. Fraser fell into a deep sleep while Ray watched sports on the TV. Only Ray was there, dismissing the hospital staff when they came to help, waking Fraser up for lunch and dinner and helping his groggy friend to eat both meals. 

It was Ray's favorite ammo to use every time Fraser insisted he could go back to his own apartment. 

What made Ray's 'Remember last Saturday' tirade most annoying was that Fraser had only himself to blame. 

"I do have neighbors, Ray." 

"Your neighbors! Don't talk to me about your neighbors! You were sick and alone for 4 days Fraser. Did *anyone* bother to check on you?" 

"Well that's hardly fair, Ray. Mrs. Kresjopalav is recovering from her broken hip at the rehabilitation hospital. Mr. Mustafi was away visiting relatives and Mrs. Garcia was very busy as her family was coming to celebrate Christmas." 

"Christmas? It was January." 

"Yes, Ray. Puerto Ricans celebrate Christmas on January 6, the Epiphany. You know it really is a charming celebration where gifts are hidden in straw under the children's beds and..." 

"Fraser! Enough! You are not going back to your apartment. Even Dief didn't pull a Lassie act and get someone to come to your rescue. As soon as he realized you couldn't feed him, he divied up his time between Jackie Alexander and Willie." 

"He is just an animal, Ray." 

"Yes. And you are not going back to an apartment with neighbors who may or may not check on you and a wolf who ain't Lassie. Besides, the home care nurses will be coming by for dressing changes and to give you your antibiotics. You want those women, those *young* women, *alone* in your neighborhood? Do you?" 

Ray was right of course. He always had been. He couldn't take care of himself...at least not yet. He hated this feeling of...dependence. Bothering the Vecchio family with his mere presence in their household not to mention the dressing changes and antibiotic administration that would be necessary. 

Ray was right though. His own prideful misjudgements, firstly about his initial back pain and then all that 'frequent stool' nonsense, had nearly cost him his life. He would have foolishly, unnecessarily, gone to his own death. But Ray had saved him...both times. And if you looked at it just the right way, Ray had also saved him from certain death with Victoria... 

Fraser pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. *No. Too much. Too much. Don't even think about that.* 

"Benny? You OK? You're shaking." 

"I'm alright. It's just alot to think about." 

"No. You're wrong there. There's *nothing* to think about. When you're discharged, you're coming to my house." 

Alma had chosen just that minute to come walking into the room. "So have you decided, Benton?" 

"Yes. Ray has convinced me that going back to my apartment would be unwise. I'll be staying with Ray and his family." 

Ray had a satisfied smile on his face. 

"That's a good decision. So it'll be Ray then?" 

"Yes." 

Ray paled and his smile disappeared. "'So it'll be Ray then' what?" 

"To learn how to irrigate the back wound and administer the antibiotics." 

"I thought the home care nurses..." 

"No. They only come once a day. Benton will need antibiotics around the clock and irrigations three times a day." 

"Oh dear. Didn't I make that clear, Ray?" 

"As mud, Benny!" 

"You'll be fine. With some practice you'll be a pro." Alma gripped Ray just above the elbow and started to pull him from the room. "Let's get you a cover gown. I wouldn't want you to get pus on your silk shirt." 

"Why is this my life?", Fraser heard Ray moan as he was led from the room. 

~~~~~~ 

Ray's daytime hours were dedicated to staying at the hospital and learning all the procedures the nurses had to teach him; his nights were full of readying his home for Fraser. He would go to bed at 3AM and be back at the hospital by 8AM to do 2 of the 3 wound irrigations and to administer all the daytime antibiotics. 

Three days later, Ray had had enough. Sterile technique, 'priming' IV tubing, 'washing from the center out with friction and duration', iodine scrubs, piston syringes, and analyzing pus had filled his waking and few sleeping hours. But in order for Fraser to be discharged into his care, Ray had to demonstrate proficiency with IV's and wound management since he would be providing the majority of care. Under the nurses' tutelage, Ray learned and he learned well. 

The first time he had to irrigate the incision, he couldn't stop gagging and he nearly passed out. He never knew that pus could smell so bad. But he was acutely aware of how Fraser must be feeling, the pain of the irrigation and the embarrassment of the odor, so he kept himself calm and focused on his task. In three short days he mastered all the necessary skills in order to insure Fraser's discharge. 

### 23.

Ray did not sleep the night before Fraser's discharge. The den in his  
home had been converted into Fraser's room and he spent the entire evening  
with his family and excited nieces and nephews doing last minute preparations.  
At night, when the household had quieted and everyone slept, he spent  
the early morning hours by himself adding the finishing touches.

He was assured by his nieces and nephews that the rented hospital bed was comfortable. They had spent the majority of the evening playing with it, riding up and down as they fiddled with the controls. 

Ray wanted the room to look homey and comfortable. He was determined that the multitude of medical supplies would remain out of sight. 

The hospital bed was set in front of a large bay window that overlooked a snow and ice covered garden. The coats and jackets that were usually kept in a huge oak armoire were removed and Ray filled the beautiful antique with large plastic stackable bins to hold all the medical suplies that would be necessary. 

The medical supplies had been arriving daily for the last week as the home care nurses ordered everything that they and Ray would need. The pharmaceutical company had made a delivery as well. A weeks supply of antibiotics, 77 total, were stacked neatly in a portable refrigerator. 

Ray had been stopping by Fraser's apartment and getting some things that he thought the Mountie might need. Some of Fraser's books were lined in a bookcase and his clothes were folded and placed within easy reach in a closet. 

Ray's own portable CD stereo system sat on the bedside table complete with CDs of Fraser's favorite artists, Gordon Lightfoot and the Bee Gees. Ray smiled as he remembered being in the music store and his embarassment when he went to the register to pay for them. The young man with the purple hair and several nose rings behind the cash register looked at the CDs and then at Ray with disdain. For some reason, Ray felt the need to defend himself. "Hey they're not for me. They're for a friend." The young man didn't bother to reply but the 'Yeah, Right' expression on his face told Ray he wasn't believed. Ray couldn't help but grimace when he looked at the CDs and made a mental note to get his headphones down to the den pronto. 

Before he left, he took one last look at the Vecchio home newest addition and his personal pride and joy. The den always had a toilet, a dark ugly bathroom that he and his father had built. His father always had 'the boys' over and the den was their favorite place to stay. Carmine Vecchio didn't want his friends to have to walk upstairs, so he and Ray converted a tiny closet to a toilet with a sink. Ray had been excited about the project at first thinking it would be an opportunity to please his father. It quickly turned hellish as Carmine belittled and screamed at his son because his 10 year-old hands couldn't tightly hold a wrench and he wasn't strong enough to carry a toilet. 

It was always hard for Ray to decide what he hated more. His father or the legacy of unhappy memories that would haunt him. 

He banished the memory from his mind and turned on the light in the beautiful new Italian tiled bathroom that he, Maria's husband Tony Seravelli, and his cousins Al and Petie had built. It hadn't been that difficult really, they just had to do it fast because Ray wanted it completed before Fraser came home. His cousin Petie had plumbing and remodelling skills and the men, along with Ray's niece and nephews, had gotten the job done in a little over a week, including the tiling. They had knocked down a wall between the old bathroom and a little used utility room which provided much more space. His 8 year-old niece Rosa had accompanied him to the tile store and together they picked out emerald green and grey marbled tile. A new sink, toilet, towel rack, and best of all, a roomy shower stall with a built in seat completed the room. Frannie had picked out the towels, mirror, and blinds for the window. 

Ray was happy. With it's completion and all the fun that they had doing it, some of his father's demons had been exorcised. 

The night passed quickly and Ray was surprised when he saw the pink and purple streaks of dawn expand across the sky. He took one last satisfied look around the room. Even the ugly hospital bed now covered in flannel sheets, pillows, and a thick down comforter looked nice. Ray was pleased. They did a good job. 

~~~~~~

Forty days after he was brought in dying to the Emergency Room, Fraser was pronounced ready for discharge. Ray arrived mid-morning with Fraser's RCMP sweatshirt, sweatpants, and sneakers in hand. As he helped his friend get dressed, Ray was thankful that he didn't bring the flannel shirt and jeans. Fraser's debilitated state, along with the weight loss he suffered, made even the elastic waistband of the sweatpants not as snug as it should be. Ray had to pull the drawstring tight to keep Fraser's pants from falling down. 

Last minute instructions, papers to be signed, and goodbyes to the nursing staff filled the morning. Dr. Brincheiro stopped by and shook hands with Fraser. Since he and Frannie were now dating steadily, he assured Fraser that he would be by almost daily to check in and see how his patient was doing. 

After the noon antibiotics were given, the nurse brought in a wheelchair. Fraser said goodbye and thanked everyone kindly. Ray wheeled him out into the cold February air. 

Dief was waiting outside and bounced and barked excitedly when he saw his master. Dief was shamelessly emotional, in Fraser's opinion, when he jumped into his lap and whined and placed his muzzle in the hollow of Fraser's neck. Ray happily wheeled wolf and Mountie to the Riv. 

The greeting was no less ecstatic when the trio arrived at North Octavia. Fraser's discharge from the hospital was seen as a cause for celebration at the Vecchio home. Anyone who could get off of work that day was invited. When the Riv was spotted turning down the street, even before it pulled up in front of the house, the entire Vecchio and Seravelli families filled the front porch in a joyous welcome. Fraser and Ray were swamped as they exited the car. His hand firmly gripping the exhausted and weakened Mountie, Ray led Fraser past the multitude of aunts and uncles who kissed them and pinched their cheeks. 

Ray's nieces and nephews, the Seravelli children, weaving their way through their aunts and uncles, led the way to the den, eager to show off the room. 

"Tada!", 10 year-old Michael shouted as he threw open the door. 

"Ray! It looks beautiful! You really didn't need to go through all this trouble." 

"That's not the best part! Look!", chimed in 9 year-old Joey as he pulled open the bathroom door. 

Fraser stepped into the bathroom astonished. "Ray, you didn't do all this for me, did you?" 

"Nah. Not really. There are 10 of us here and there was only one real bathroom. We've needed to fix up this second one for a long time. And you don't have to worry about running out of hot water either. This shower has it's own hot water heater." 

Fraser looked into the shower and smiled when he saw the hand held shower nozzle and 3 tiny toy rubber ducks sitting in the soap dish. 

"You can play with the ducks when you shower", Joey said. 

"Thank you. I will." 

"And Rosa here is the plumber of the family. She read the blueprints for us and helped with all the pipe fittings." With that, Ray picked up his niece and swung her in the air while kissing her neck. 

"She'll be a rich plumber one day and take care of her Uncle Ray. Right, Beauty?" 

The laughing child hugged her beloved uncle tight and smiled at the nick-name he had long ago given her. 

Fraser smiled at the child curled in her uncle's arms. "You did a wonderful job Rosa. You all did. Thank you." 

Ray put the child down and the children ran from the bathroom calling for Fraser to follow them to come see the 'cool' moving bed. 

Ray was helping Fraser out of the bathroom when Fraser stopped to examine the tiles. He ran his fingertips across the smooth, glossy suface. 

"These are beautiful, Ray. Excellent tiling. But then you always did have a talent for masonry." 

"No. I never did anything like that before. Until last week I was a tiling virgin." 

"Really? That's funny...I seem to remember some masonry you did..." 

Fraser stumbled and looked much paler. Ray gently gripped his arm again and led him from the bathroom to the bed where he helped him to sit on the edge. 

Even though there was a two year age difference, 5 year-old Tony Jr. and 3 year-old Isabella seemed as if they were joined at the hip. Together, hand in hand, they shyly approached Fraser and handed him two paper plates. One had various pasta shapes glued to it which were then covered in a generous amount of glue and blue glitter, to the other plate was glued beads and bits of colored string. 

Fraser had never been the recipient of childish works of art and he was delighted. A lump rose in his throat. "Why thank you, Tony. Thank you, Isabella. They're beautiful." And he meant it. 

"OK, kids. Scoot. Fraser's gonna get some rest now." 

Dief led the exodus from the room, eager to get back to the party and the food. Moaning, the children slowly exited the room and Ray closed the door behind them. 

Still standing by the door, Ray held up his fingers to his lips in a shushing gesture. "Benny, this is the best thing about this room. Listen." 

Outside the den, the welcome home party was roaring full force. But in the cocooned den with the thick oak door closed, the noise was muffled and it sounded like... 

"The ocean! Ray! It sounds like the ocean!" 

Ray crossed the room smiling. "Yep. I call this the sea shell room. And the louder they get, the better it sounds in here." 

Fraser stood up and propped his paper plate art on the bedside table. His movement was slow and it looked to Ray as if he was in pain. 

"Come on, Benny. How 'bout we get you into bed for some rest? I'll bring you some escarole soup and rolls later." 

"That would be wonderful, Ray. Thank you. Are my longjohns here? Or should I stay in my sweatsuit?" 

"Ah, no. I've got your longjohns here but I brought you something, Benny. But you don't have to wear them if you don't want to." 

Ray went to the closet and removed a pile of clothes and held them out for Fraser to see. 

"Nightshirts! Flannel nightshirts! My Grandfather wore flannel nightshirts!" 

"I thought they'd be easier for you...you know...if you got 'frequent stools' again." 

"Why thank you, Ray." 

Fraser stripped happily and Ray was surprised at his complete lack of modesty. *I guess 40 days in a hospital will do that to you.* 

With Ray's help, he slipped the nightshirt over his head. Fraser stood up and shrugged to let it fall to its full length. 

"How do I look?", Fraser asked as he ran his hand across the soft shirt. 

Fraser had chosen a beige nightshirt with thin blue piping. It looked old fashioned on him but it looked...very right. 

Ray smiled. "You look good, Benny. Real good." 

Now exhausted, Fraser settled into bed with Ray's help. 

Ray took out his cell phone. "I'll dig up Maria's baby monitors but in the mean time, if you need anything, just dial the house with the cell phone. Don't worry, we have call waiting, so you'll always get through." 

Ray placed the phone on the bedside table and it was then that Fraser noticed the stereo and the CDs piled there. 

"Ray! Gordon Lightfoot and the Bee Gees! Thank you!" 

"You wanna listen to something while you rest Benny? I got headphones right here", he added stressing the word headphones. 

"I'd like that." Fraser chose a CD and put the headphones on while Ray turned on the system and adjusted the volume. 

He couldn't hear what Ray was saying but he could easily read his body language and his lips. With his thumb pointing over his shoulder indicating the door and his lips mouthing the words, "I'll get outta here. OK? If you need anything just call me OK?" 

Before he could leave, Fraser grabbed his hand. 

"Ray, thank you. For everything", Fraser said a little too loudly. 

Ray smiled and mouthed, "You're welcome, Benny." 

Nestled in the bed and covered by the warm blanket, listening to Gordon Lightfoot, Fraser turned his head to look at the snow covered garden as it glistened in the afternoon sun. He was sound asleep before Ray even got to the door. 

### 24.

Ray was nervous. He'd done this so many times before, but usually under  
more extreme circumstances, with Alma glaring at him just daring him  
to make a mistake, and he always managed to do fine. Now his first time  
alone to do an irrigation and Ray was shaking. He was shaking so badly  
he'd already dropped and contaminated 2 piston syringes.

It wasn't even like there was anyone aware of what he was doing. He had awakened Fraser at 3:30 PM, a mere two and a half hours after they had arrived home and gave him 2 pain pills as pre-medication for the painful procedure. 

Now at 4PM, Fraser barely muttered as Ray positioned him and draped the bed to keep it from getting wet. But much to Ray's relief, his nurse-mode took over and he accomplished the irrigation with Fraser only occasionally moaning and flinching. Ray was proud of himself. He even managed to keep the bed dry. 

He was shaking just as badly at 6PM when he gave his first solo dose of antibiotics. Fraser was barely awake and mumbled incoherently as Ray undid the few buttons at the top of his shirt to expose the IV site. The alcohol was cold and when Ray applied the swab to Fraser's skin, his eyes popped open in surprise. 

Ray apologized. "Sorry, Benny. Just giving you your antibiotics." 

Fraser mumbled a tired, "S'okay" and fell back to sleep immediately. 

While the antibiotics were infusing, Ray took the time to get some soup and rolls ready for Fraser. 

The antibiotics were done in 40 minutes and then Ray roused Fraser enough and had him eat some soup. Despite his sleepiness, Fraser ate well, nearly finishing the whole bowl. Now supported by Ray on his left and his cane on the right, Fraser walked in a wavery line to the bathroom. 

Everything was going well. Fraser was back in bed and already asleep, and Ray was feeling more confident about the upcoming antibiotics and an irrigation at 11PM. 

~~~~~~ 

Ray's quiet walking and preparations for the 11PM irrigation and antibiotics woke Fraser from his light sleep. 10 hours of sleeping had left him feeling refreshed, wakeful, and stronger; not exhausted as usual. 

"Good evening, Ray." 

"Hey, Benny. You're awake. I was just gonna wake you to give you some pain pills. It's almost time for another irrigation." 

"Another one. I barely remember the first one." 

"Yeah, you were sleeping pretty good. You want something to eat while I get this all together?" 

"No thank you. I'm fine." 

"I'll get you the pain pills." 

Fraser frowned. Pain pills. He hated the things. 

"I just feel awake and good and they make me all fuzzy again." 

"You don't want to try an irrigation without them do you?" 

The irrigations were bad enough when he was medicated. The solution would set the incision on fire and then hot shooting pains would go scorching down his back, buttocks, and legs. 

"No, not really." 

"I'll get you the pills and at least some toast and jelly. You really shouldn't take them on an empty stomach." 

By the time Ray had returned with the toast, Fraser had gotten himself out of bed and was now looking out the bay window. The night had turned snow covered Chicago that deep shade of blue that Fraser always loved. He watched as Ray's reflection entered the room, placed the plate on the bedside table, and came up to stand beside him. 

The men talked by just making eye contact via their reflections. 

"Ray, I was just thinking. How much of your vacation time did you lose because of me?" 

Ray shrugged. "You mean just now or a combined total of all the years past?" 

Fraser smiled. "Just this time would be fine." 

"Well it's hard to say. At first they gave me some compassionate leave and then they threw in a few personal days..." 

"Ray, please." 

"As of right now 3 weeks." 

Fraser shook his head slowly and sadly. "I'm causing you to spend your vacation time in Chicago. In February no less." 

"No, I've got some more time left. Jennifer and I were planning on going somewhere warm for awhile...the Caymans maybe. But even that's not off, just delayed." 

"And how much money did you lose because of me?" 

Ray shrugged but with a smile on his face. "You mean just now or a combined total of all the years past?" 

Fraser smiled. "Just this time would be fine." 

"Nothing really." 

Fraser's face in his glass reflection showed his disbelief. "The bathroom?" 

"Well not much. The tiles only. Al and Petie owed me. They'd both be in jail right now for Scoff Law. Do you have any idea how many parking tickets I've squashed for them? And Petie has a friend in the plumbing business. The bed, refrigerator, and medical supplies are all courtesy of your health insurance and the Canadian government. Why are you asking me all this?" 

"Because I was trying to think of anyone else, here or in Canada, who would have done all that you have done for me." 

"Short list?" 

Fraser nodded. "Yes. There is no one. Just you." 

Ray shook his head and looked into the Chicago night. "You really don't have a grasp of this 'friend' thing yet, do you?" 

He turned Fraser so now they were face to face and he looked him in the eye. 

"I do this because you are my friend. I do this because I care about you. I do this because you are important to me. To me, you are worth more than my vacation. You are worth more than money." 

Fraser's throat constricted and he felt tears gather in his eyes. He grabbed Ray and held him tightly, hoping he'd keep his tears at bay. 

"Thank you, Ray. Thank you. You are worth more than money to me too." 

"Like family. Right, Benny?" 

"Yes. Just like family." 

Ray relaxed his embrace first but found that Fraser still held him tightly. 

"Fraser?" 

"Yes Ray?" 

"We're hugging in front of an window with the curtains open. The Fratelli's kitchen light is on. If that witch Mrs. Fratelli sees this, she'll be telling the whole world that we're gay." 

"But, Ray, it is culturally acceptable and expected that two males of Italian heritage embrace." 

"Yeah. But that doesn't count. You're not Italian. A male Italian hugging another male Italian is OK. A male Italian hugging a male who is not Italian is gay." 

"That's a stereotype, Ray." 

"No it isn't. It's just one of those things that everyone thinks but isn't really true." 

"But you said I was 'just like family'." 

"Oh. You're right. That is different. Let's give Mrs. Fratelli something to talk about." Ray tightend his embrace again. 

"Famiglia", he whispered into Fraser's ear. 

"Famiglia", came the soft reply. 

"Come on, Benny. We have alot to do yet. Let's get those pain pills in you and the toast. We'll do the irrigation and maybe you can sleep while the antibiotics go in." 

The embrace was finally released between them and the two men just stood smiling at each other. Ray patted Fraser on the shoulder. 

"Get to bed, Benny, and start eating that toast. I'll get the pain pills." 

Fraser sat on the edge of the bed eating the toast with jelly and sipping some milk which Ray had brought in as well. Ray quickly returned with the pills and Fraser frowned as he swallowed them with some milk. 

"I really don't like taking these." 

"I know. But you need them now. Who knows? The incision is healing well and there's alot less drainage each time. Maybe we can stop all this soon." 

"I hope so", Fraser said as he settled into bed. 

"I'm gonna get the stuff together. You just rest. OK?" 

"I will." 

### 25.

Ray's back was to him as he gathered together all the equipment and prepared  
the irrigating solution and antibiotics.

Fraser just lay back in bed and looked around the den. He had always liked this room. Mrs. Vecchio had always kept the beautiful honey brown wood that ran throughout the house well oiled and waxed. The wood had a soft golden glow. Along the top of the wood paneling was a small shelf which the Vecchio family had lined with small knick-knacks and framed photographs in beautiful antique silver frames. 

One of the knick-knacks on the shelf was a small statue of the Blessed Virgin. 

*The pain killers have started working*, Fraser thought. He was beginning to feel sleepy and his thoughts had become fuzzy. Ray, still preparing everything, was humming softly to himself. 

Fraser tried to fight off the sleep and looked up again at the statue of the Blessed Virgin. The sight of the small statue was making him uncomfortable. It was unnerving somehow. The Virgin smiled benevolently down on him as he lay twisting and exhausted in bed. It was getting hard to breathe. He tugged at the collar of his nightshirt. 

Ray picked up on his restlessness. "Benny, you OK?" 

Ray's voice distracted him from the penetrating gaze of the Virgin. 

"Yes, Ray. I'm fine." 

*Something's coming.* 

"How 'bout we do that irrigation?" 

"Yes. Good", he answered quickly. 

Fraser found that the painful irrigation was a pleasant diversion from the dicomforting statue. Ray apologized many times and Fraser reassured him he was fine through clenched teeth. As painful as it was, he didn't want it to end because then he'd have to look upon the Blessed Virgin again. 

Ray was done, a new dressing applied, and now he had to turn over so Ray could give him the antibiotics. 

*Something's coming.* 

The understanding blue eyes set in porcelin skin looked down upon him. 

*That's it! There's a dime glued to the bottom of that figurine!* 

"Ray?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"Why is there a dime glued to the bottom of that Blessed Virgin statue?" 

Ray shrugged. "It's a Catholic thing. It's done so you'll always have enough money. That's all." 

"Oh." 

Ray was busy untangling the IV lines. "Damn! These things are worse than the Christmas lights!" 

Another thought crossed his muzzy mind. *How did I know that? How did I know there was a dime glued to that statue? Oh yes. When I was searching for Victoria's locker key. This was one of the first places I looked.* 

The memory replayed itself in his mind against his will. 

He had placed a chair along the wall and stood up on it and gazed along the shelf. No key. He then moved the chair along the wall stopping every few feet and looking at, under, and all around the knick-knacks there. When he turned over the statue of the Blessed Virgin, the glimpse of silver made his heart soar thinking he had found the key. He remembered his disappointment and then thinking how odd it was that a dime should be glued there. 

This memory had been totally lost and completely forgotten, due to subsequent events, but was resurfacing now. 

*Now all of a sudden why does that pop into my mind?* 

Ray's muttering and fussing with the IV lines was gently lulling him into sleep... 

The house was littered. Nothing was in its place. Everything was thrown about. He was on his knees digging through layers of books, knick-knacks; the insignificant possessions of a life. He was panicked. He had to find something. He suddenly realized a body was lying underneath the heaps. He threw aside some framed photographs and uncovered Isabella where she lay under the rubble. 

"Uncle Ray?" 

He raised his hands and to his horror he saw that they were covered in blood, a shredded heart within them. 

"Ray!" 

The entire Vecchio and Seravelli families stood looking at him, horror on their faces. 

He was crying. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I never meant..." 

Only Ray came forward. He gently picked up his crying niece and kissed her and spoke softly, reassuringly in her ear. He then turned and gave the child to his sister Maria. 

He then viciously turned back to Fraser and shoved him painfully in the chest. He screamed in his face. "You bastard! You fucking bastard! Burn in hell you fucking son-of-a-bitch!" 

"Ray, please! Please! I'm sorry! I never meant for this to happen! I never meant..." 

They all stood around him, glaring at him, as he was on his knees crying. His anguished pleadings ignored and unacknowledged. 

They started to move away from him leaving him despairing in shame and misery. Victoria's laughter rang through the room filling his ears. 

"No!" 

The family closed the door on him and he felt lost, alone, and ashamed. 

"Ray, please! I'm sorry! Forgive me!" 

"Ray!", his own scream awoke him as he bolted upright in bed. "Ray!" 

Ray ran across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Benny! Jesus Christ! What's wrong?" 

Fraser was still yelling, staring past Ray. "Ray! I'm sorry! I never meant to hurt you!" 

Ray was shaking his shoulders. "Benny! Wake up! You're having a nightmare!" 

"What have I done?" 

"Benny!" 

Fully awake, Fraser realized he was clutching Ray's arms. He looked around and remembered where he was, in the loving, caring embrace of the Vecchio home and shame flooded him. 

Crying, he put his hands up over his face. "Don't look at me! Don't look at me!" 

"Jesus Christ, Benny! What's happening?" Ray moved to hold him. 

"No! Don't look at me!" His hands still covering his face, Fraser quickly rolled out of bed, ripping the IV from his chest. The pain was momentary, insignificant to the pain and shame he felt in his heart. 

He fell into a corner, doubled over in despair and agony, his hands still covering his face which was pressed into the wall. His cries were shrill. "Don't look at me! Don't look at me!" 

"Raymondo! What's happening?" 

Ray turned to see his mother, Tony, and Maria standing horrified in the doorway. 

"I'm not sure! I think it's a dream. I don't know. Just leave us alone for a minute." 

Fraser was crying and rocking in the corner. "I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you." 

Ray approached him carefully. "Benny, wake up. You're having a nightmare." He put his hands on Fraser's back. 

"Don't touch me! I am awake! Don't look at me! Oh God! I'm sorry for what I've done." 

"Benny, you're really scaring me." 

"I'm sorry, Ray. I never meant to hurt you." 

"Benny, you've never hurt me." 

"Yes, I have." 

"Well you wanna fill me in a little? 'Cause I can't remember." 

"Victoria", Fraser sobbed. "Victoria. The house...you would have lost everything...the children...I never meant to hurt you...I never meant to hurt anyone..." 

Stunned realization dawned on Ray. Here was the apology he wanted. Open mouthed, he stared at the anguished man huddled and sobbing in the corner. 

"... I was so absorbed in myself...I never realized what it would have cost you...I never realized...I'm so ashamed..." 

"Oh my God! Benny!" Ray approached him cautiously, gently putting his hands on Fraser's back. His touch was not cast off. He slid his arms around Fraser's shoulders and then to his chest and held him tightly. He pressed his face to the side of Fraser's neck. 

"I'm so sorry, Ray. So very sorry. Please forgive me." 

"Benny, I forgive you", he whispered into Fraser's ear. 

"I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone." 

"I know that. I know that." 

"Please forgive me." 

"I do." 

Fraser was still sobbing and doubled over. But now exhausted, he couldn't fight when Ray started to pull him up to lay him against his chest. Ray just held him and spoke softly to him while he cried. 

### 26.

Exhausted and with pain killers in his system, Fraser lay heavily against  
Ray. His sobbing had stopped; his breaths now coming in hiccoughs and  
shuddering gasps. Tears continued to stream down his face. It was now  
too much effort to even cover his face and his hands fell limply to his  
chest and then slid to his sides.

"Please, Benny. Let's get you off the floor and back into bed." 

A hesitant knock sounded at the door as it was being opened. Tony peeked around the door and into the room. 

"Ray? Is everything OK? Ma and Maria are pretty upset out here." 

"Everything's fine", he said more to Fraser than his brother-in-law. "Tony, come on over here and help me get him back into bed." Ray whispered to Fraser, "Benny, Tony's coming to help us." 

Tony entered the room cautiously, a little afraid of Fraser. He stepped in front of the two men where they knelt on the floor. 

"Jesus, Ray. He's bleeding." 

"Oh shit. Come on, Tony. Help me." 

"I'm sorry, Tony. So very sorry." "It's OK, Ben. Really. No problem", replied Tony thinking Fraser was referring to the midnight disturbance. 

Ray picked up Fraser under the arms and Tony lifted him around the waist. Sandwiched between the two men, Fraser was guided back to bed. 

Deeply ashamed and embarrassed, Fraser could not look his friend in the eye. As he was settled into bed, he kept his eyes firmly shut and his face turned away. 

Once in bed, Ray got a good look at Fraser. His face was reddened and streaked with tears. Ten tiny rents across his brow and cheeks were bleeding from where his nails had dug into his skin. Blood had also stained the front of his nightshirt from where the IV had been pulled from his chest. 

Ray quickly opened the neck of the nightshirt and saw a small laceration at the IV site. 

"Ray, you want me to pull the car around? You gonna take him to the hospital?" 

"He just had a nightmare from the pain pills that's all. But I don't know what damage he may have done to the IV", Ray said as he fingered the site. 

Fraser hissed when he touched an especially sensitive area. 

"Yeah, go get the car, Tony. This IV needs to be checked." 

Fraser heard Tony leave the room and Ray's weight lift off the side of the bed. Water was running in the bathroom then shut off and he felt Ray's weight beside him again. 

Ray's hand was on his chin and his face was being gently turned away from the pillow and covers where he desperately wanted to hide. 

"Benny, it's OK. Please talk to me", Ray said as he dabbed at the cuts and tear tracks on Fraser's face with the warm washcloth. 

Maria knocked on the door jamb. "Ray, Frannie and Frank went out for a late supper and they just pulled up. How about Frank comes in and checks on Benton?" 

"Oh yeah! Thanks, Maria." 

Ray turned his attention back to Fraser as he continued to dab his face. "Benny, Dr. Brincheiro's here. He's just gonna check the IV." 

Dr. Brincheiro quietly knocked on the door. 

"Ray? What happened?", he asked as he entered the room taking in the scene before him. His patient lay still on the bed, eyes firmly shut, face red and tear streaked, his breaths coming in gasping and shuddering sobs. Ray was leaning over him tending to the multiple tiny cuts on his face. 

"He had a nightmare from the pain pills. He hopped out of bed and the IV pulled out. There's a cut there and I think it may be damaged. It's bleeding and sore." 

Ray relinquished his place to Dr. Brincheiro who began to examine the IV. 

"It wasn't a nightmare", Fraser spoke quietly in a rasping voice. 

"What was it then?" 

"It was a realization." 

"Well that must have been some realization." 

"It was." 

Dr. Brincheiro continued with the examination. "There's just a small laceration where the needle pulled out. The IV port itself should be OK. It's been implanted for a few weeks now and is made of self sealing rubber so it should have been able to withstand the tug it was given. But depending on the pull, the chest wall may be sore for awhile." As if to validate his assessment, his fingers probed a tender area and Fraser drew in a sharp breath at the touch. 

"I'll put some butterfly stitches over the laceration and we'll let it heal for a few days. It should be fine. But in the meantime, you'll have to get the antibiotics the usual way, by a capped IV in your arm. I'll just go by my office and get the things I need. I'll be back to put the IV in." Dr. Brincheiro then washed the laceration and put a folded gauze pad over the cut and taped it in place. 

"Thank you, Dr. Brincheiro." 

"Thanks, Frank. I'm just glad we don't have to go back to the hospital." 

"Ray, would you like to come with me?" 

At this Fraser peeked open an eye and took a good look at his friend. Ray looked awful. The color was gone from his face and he looked gaunt and tired. Fresh pain stabbed him in the heart. Ray had been through alot these past days. 

*My antics just now haven't made it any easier.* 

Fraser speaking quietly to him took him by surprise. "Ray, why don't you go? You look like you could use a little air." 

Ray smiled, relieved that his friend was talking again. 

"No thank you. I'll just stay right here for now." 

The silence was loud in the room after Dr. Brincheiro left. Too much painful emotion suddenly expressed. Ray numbly turned towards the window and garden; Fraser embarrassed, turned the opposite direction, towards the door. Each man was lost in his own thoughts. 

*This is too much. I gotta get out of here.* 

"Benny do you mind if I step out for a minute?" 

"No, not at all, Ray. Please do. I'll be fine." 

"I won't be far. I'll just be on the porch." Ray walked slowly from the room leaving Fraser alone with his thoughts. 

The Mountie twisted uncomfortably in bed. *Oh dear God. Why did I never think of that before?*  
...Because you have been self absorbed. You've only let yourself see your own suffering. You've thought many times about Victoria...did you ever think about Ray? 

*How long has he known?*   
...He's known the second you started your run along side that train. 

*Oh God. Why did he never say anything?*   
...You're his friend, his family. He would never do anything to hurt or embarass you. 

*Oh, Ray. Please forgive me. I don't know if I'll be able to forgive myself for this.* 

*Another thing.* 

He thought he'd gotten over that whole mess with Victoria. Well mostly. And now here was another thing. Something else to come to terms with; something else in which he had to reconcile his unpardonable behavior. 

He let a gasp escape him and felt tears gather in his eyes. The washcloth that Ray was dabbed his face with was left on the bedside table. Fraser picked up the now cool cloth and placed it over his brow and eyes. 

The darkness was welcoming and hid him from shame while the washcloth lessened the pounding in his head. The pain killers he took just a mere hour ago were still in his system. He could feel sleep coming. 

~~~~~~

Frank Brincheiro's car had long ago pulled away from the house to go to his office and Ray stood on the porch looking at the distant stars shining in the night sky. The air was thick and the coffee his mother had given him was thin...and both were cold. 

For nearly 2 years he felt betrayed and hurt by Fraser. For nearly 2 years he waited for an apology. Tonight Fraser realized his betrayal of Ray and his family. Ray closed his eyes and saw the anguished man huddled and sobbing in a corner. Fraser had given Ray his much wanted apology. 

He looked up to the stars and the adage resounded through his head. 

*Be careful of what you wish for. It just may come true.* 

### 27.

He must have dozed off because the cool washcloth was warm now and drier.  
Fraser pulled the washcloth from his face and sat up and sighed. His  
head and chest were throbbing in tandem, his throat was raw from yelling  
and his eyes felt gritty and sore.

"Benton? Are you alright?" Mrs. Vecchio was sitting in a chair beside the bed. "Ray asked me to come in. He's just having some coffee on the porch. Can I get you anything?" 

"No thank you. I'm fine, Mrs. Vecchio." He looked at the gentle woman who gazed at him with such love and concern. Betraying tears gathered in his eyes and began to fall on his nightshirt. 

Before he knew it, he was swept up in her arms and she held him tightly. Between his sobs, he thought of how she always smelled of bread and sugar. The personification of bread, being the staff of life; and sugar, the sweetness of everything in it. 

*How can this family be so good to me?* 

"Oh my handsome son! Can you please tell me what's wrong?" 

Words were beyond him and he couldn't speak. He just shook his head. 

"Benton, does it have anything to do with that awful time when you tried to prevent that woman from escaping on the train and my Raymondo shot you? If it does, please forgive him. If you only knew how much he suffered because of it..." 

Fraser felt himself tense in Mrs. Vecchio's arms. *Something she said...* 

"Oh my God! Is that what he told you? That I was trying to prevent her escape?" 

Mrs. Vecchio nodded. 

The anguish was almost too much to bear. The realization of what his friend had done now fully revealed to him. For 2 years Ray had lived a lie telling everyone Fraser was trying to prevent Victoria's escape, deliberately making himself look bad while keeping Fraser untarnished. 

How he stopped himself from screaming in agony he did not know. 

Her dress was clenched tightly in his fists. She held him close while he sobbed. 

"It wasn't like that...It wasn't like that...I was leaving...I was going with her...Ray had mortgaged the house...he...you...would have lost everything..." 

He felt her stiffen in his arms. *Oh Raymondo!* 

"My beautiful son knows this?" 

Fraser nodded. 

"And he forgave you?" 

A slow hesitant nod was the reply. 

Mrs. Vecchio slowly pulled away from Fraser and she put her hand under his chin and gently lifted his head so she could look him in the eye. 

"When a man stands before God and asks for forgiveness, it is given; a man's family can do no less." 

"Please forgive me." 

"I already have." 

She drew him in close again, his sobbing muffled against her. She stroked Fraser's hair. 

Ray knocked on the door. "Ma? Benny? Everything OK?" 

Mrs. Vecchio kissed Fraser's hair and then went over to tightly embrace her son. 

"I love you, Raymondo." 

Ray was suspicious. "Yeah. I love you too, Ma. What's up? Benny been telling you Inuit stories?" 

"No. I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are." 

"OK....sure." 

Mrs. Vecchio left the room and the 2 friends were alone. Ray knelt before Fraser. 

"You feeling any better, Benny?" 

"I know what you did, Ray." 

"Hey look. That wasn't my fault. It was late and in the dark some tranvestites really look like women..." 

Fraser smiled sadly seeing through Ray's obvious diversionary tactic. "Ray, please. I'm talking about you telling everyone I was trying to pull Victoria from the train." 

"Yeah, well, Benny, that was just a real bad decision on your part. You were hurt bad enough and I didn't want you to go through any more pain. That's all. Nobody had to know and I didn't think most people would be as forgiving..." 

"As you." 

Ray nodded. "Yeah." 

With tears streaming down his face, Fraser looked at his beloved friend. 

"Ray, I'm so very sorry. I never realized. Please forgive me. For everything." 

"Benny, you're forgiven. I know you would never want to hurt me or my family. It was just a thoughtless decision. That's all." 

"A thoughtless decision that would have cost you and your family your home." 

"Yeah. But that didn't happen right? Look there was alot of pain for both of us over all of that. Can we finally end this now? I'm sorry, Benny." 

"I'm sorry, Ray." 

"I forgive you, Benny." 

"I forgive you, Ray." 

"There now. See? All better. Even Steven", Ray added with a smile as he dried Fraser's tears. 

"Ray, no one says 'Even Steven' anymore." 

"Really? Why?" 

"It's juvenile." 

"Oh." 

### 28.

When Frank Brincheiro returned, Ray was again holding Fraser in an embrace.  
He had quieted, and his heart wrenching sobbing had finally stopped.  
Ray thought that Fraser might be nearly asleep in his arms.

"Benny?" 

A muffled 'Mmmm?' came from his shoulder. 

"Frank's here to put the IV in." 

"Mmmmm...'kay." 

Ray eased him back by the shoulders while Dr. Brincheiro picked up and guided his knees and legs back into the bed. Fatigued, his strength gone, Fraser could only watch them through half closed eyes. The throbbing in his head and chest had eased a little. 

Dr. Brincheiro was telling him step by step what he was doing while simultaneously having a conversation with Ray about how to care for the capped IV. 

Fraser woke slightly as he felt the tourniquet tighten around his forearm, but then drifted away again as the doctor selected a site and then swabbed the area with alcohol. 

The sharp discomfort of the needlestick made him a little more wakeful but it passed quickly. Since the conversation was not directed to him, he fell asleep while Dr. Brincheiro spoke to Ray about vein irritating antibiotics and those signs and symptoms which would indicate a problem. 

### 29.

Oh yes. No doubt about it. The nurse was a sadist.

Openly disbelieving Ray when he described the amount and type of drainage he was getting with his irrigations, she criticized him. 

"The drainage that you describe cannot be expected at this time of healing", she authoritatively shot back at him. 

So to prove him wrong, she probed, poked, prodded, and irrigated until Fraser thought he was going to pass out from the pain. 

Ray stepped from the nurse's side to see how Fraser was faring under her onslaught and when he saw Fraser's pale lax face and his eyes rolling up into his head, he screamed for her to stop. 

A few deep breaths brought him back to full consciousness and he assured Ray he was fine. 

*It wouldn't have been so bad if I had taken some pain medication.* 

But without Ray and the Vecchios punishing him for what he did, this was the only way he could think of to punish himself for his inexcusable behavior. 

*I wonder if my toes will ever uncurl?* 

Finally, she had to concede that Ray was right. She promised she would contact Dr. Miles that day and let him know of her observations. She even suggested that the irrigations might be stopped and just instilling an antibiotic ointment along with a dressing change may be all that would be necessary from now on. 

With that good news, Ray left Fraser to rest while he went to run a few errands. 

He lay in bed trying to find a comfortable position for his throbbing back when there was a quiet knock at the door. 

"Come in." 

The Seravelli children marched into the room, eldest to youngest, in a solemn procession like manner. Michael, in the lead, carefully carried a tray that had a steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese and a large glass that contained a thick, bright pink liquid. 

Physically exhausted from the home care nurse and in pain from the irrigation, eating was the last thing on Fraser's mind but it was a gift that could not be refused. He pulled himself up in the bed and smiled warmly as the procession approached. 

"We made lunch for you", Michael said as he placed the tray over Fraser's lap. 

"Why thank you. It looks delicious." 

"It is! It's Animaniacs macaroni and cheese", Rosa added excitedly. A tiny pink finger with purple glitter nail polish pointed out the cartoon shapes for Fraser. "See! There's Yakko, Wakko, and Dot." 

"Ah." They all looked the same to Fraser and he could spend a lifetime trying to decipher the tiny pasta shapes. 

"Nonna doesn't like us to use the boxed stuff but Mom doesn't mind because it's quick." 

Fraser's stomach was churning as he lifted a forkful to his mouth. He gave it a tiny taste. 

"Why it's delicious." 

"Of course it is! We add our own cheeses. Would you like to add more Locatelli or Parmesian?", asked Joey as he held up 2 tubs of grated cheese for Fraser to choose from. 

"No thank you. It's perfect just as it is." 

"We don't use milk to make it either", added Rosa. "We use cream." 

*Well it seems the Vecchio talent for cooking has been passed to the Seravelli children.* 

Fraser turned his attention to the glass filled with the bright pink liquid, unsure of what to do with it. It looked as if it would be more appropriate to apply to a rash 4 times a day than to drink it. 

*But it seems that ingestion is indicated and it not be applied to anything as it is on a meal tray. It is possible that it is part of the meal.* 

Not wanting to take a chance, Fraser decided to ask. 

"I...drink this?", he asked hesitantly. 

The younger children fell on the floor laughing while Michael rolled his eyes in a miniature imitation of his Uncle Ray. 

"Duh! Yes you drink it! It's Strawberry Quick. It's good. Jeez! What did you drink up there in the Arctic?" 

Fraser slowly brought the drink up to his nostrils. *It smells delicious.* 

He took a tentative sip and the flavor of strawberries in cream flooded his tastebuds. 

"Why it's delicious!" 

"Told ya." 

~~~~~~

"Ray, this is really beautiful. You have a talent for this. Ever think of becoming a jeweler?" 

"And give up chasing scum all day? No thank you." 

"I hope you don't mind but I've shown this to some customers. Several want one. Could I use your design and make a few more?" 

"Sure. But I want this as a one of a kind piece. Can you make the others violets or something? I want this one to be the only one made up of Forget-me-Nots." 

"Will do. Thank you, Ray." 

"My pleasure, Ira." 

### 30.

  
"Now Michael I think that you'll find that there *is* a perfect combination  
of ingredients. If you take your standard 8 ounce glass and fill it with  
milk to just one inch below the rim and then, here's the important part,  
just 2 and 1/2 level teaspoons of powder, I think you'll find that this  
is an excellent mix. You get the full strawberry and cream flavor but  
without the abrasive pink color. This looks more like a pink found in  
nature, don't you think?"

Michael sniffed the drink that Fraser had prepared as he spoke and took a tentative sip. He rolled the strawberry drink around his mouth considering. He swallowed. 

"Yes. It's excellent. I agree with you. This is the perfect mix for a perfect drink." 

In a little over a week since he'd been introduced to the soft drink, Fraser had been trying various combinations of milk and strawberry powder to attain the most subtle but yet most satisfying flavor. On this day his experimentation had paid off and he shared it with his fellow strawberry milk connoisseur, Michael. 

Fraser prepared another glass for himself and the 2 friends clinked their glasses together. 

~~~~~~ 

The Vecchio household was in an uproar. 

*Well just slightly more of an uproar than usual*, Fraser noted. 

Jennifer was coming for a visit. The already spotless home was being re-washed, re-waxed, and re-polished in preparation for her. Meals, excursions, and intineraries were being planned; friends and relatives were being invited. 

For his last weeks of vacation, Ray had extended an invitation to Jennifer to come to Chicago and she readily accepted. Mrs. Vecchio had insisted that she stay with them but she gracefully declined choosing instead to stay at a downtown hotel. Ray was grateful for that as now they would have some much wanted privacy. 

~~~~~~

Days ago, Fraser had stumbled upon an Italian/English phrasebook in the Vecchio home. Now for the past week or so, Fraser had been practicing and mangling the romance language. The little used phrasebook was now showing signs of wear and tear as Fraser flipped frantically through the pages, firstly to try to figure out what was said to him and then trying to formulate the appropriate response. 

Everyone had been patient with him and, thankfully, even the children had not laughed at his efforts. 

The countdown was on and there were less than 24 hours until Jennifer's arrival. Ray was going shopping for all meats that would be necessary for the feast that was being planned. 

Fraser was ecstatic because Ray had invited him on the shopping excursion. It would be his first time out in weeks. After his antibiotic and dressing change, Ray had helped him to get dressed and he felt the familiar comfort of his hiking boots and heavy plaid jacket. And best of all, Ray had come back into the den with his Stetson in hand. 

"Ray! Mio cappello!" 

"Yes, Benny, your hat. You wanna wear this? It's been quite awhile you know." 

Fraser was beaming as he put the hat on his head. "Tante grazie, Ray. Tante grazie." 

"You're welcome, Benny." 

As they were leaving the house they heard Mrs. Vecchio shout from the kitchen, "Raymondo! Agnello!" 

"Si mama agnello." 

"Agnello, Ray?" 

"Lamb, Fraser." 

"And Raymondo don't forget the veal!" 

"Come si dice 'veal' in italiano?" 

"Vitello. Veal is 'vitello' in Italian." 

"Ah." 

Despite Ray's throwing a generous amount of rock salt on the steps and sidewalk, defiant slippery ice patches were everywhere. 

*Great. Just great. Watch Fraser slip and fall.* 

He considered for a moment ordering Fraser back into the house but such joy was on the Mountie's face at being outside and going for a car ride that Ray didn't have the heart. 

"OK let's make the best of this. Fraser, be careful. Watch where you're walking." 

"Yes, Ray", Fraser said dreamily. His eyes were closed as he turned his face to the sun. 

"Fraser, safety first. You gotta open your eyes." 

*Jesus! I should have checked out here before I asked him.* 

Just to be sure, Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser's waist and the two of them stepped gingerly down the steps, rock salt and ice crunching under their feet. The two navigated the steps without incident when they heard Maria call out to them. 

"Oh Ray! Don't forget Strawberry Quick!" 

"What again? Another one?" 

"Yeah the kids are really going through it." 

Fraser was speechless and turned a bright pink. 

"I just got a box last week! You really shouldn't let them drink it that much, Maria." 

"Well it is mostly milk", she countered with a shrug. "That's good for them." 

"Jeez. Did you ever see this stuff, Fraser?" 

"I...ah..." 

"It's this fake strawberry drink...real thick and bright pink...it really gags you", he said as he helped Fraser into the passenger side of the car. 

The door slammed and Fraser revelled in the comfort of the car. The beautiful Riv was like a home to him and he missed it these past weeks. He watched as Ray opened the driver's side door and slid behind the wheel. 

"You know it really can't be good for the kids." 

"What can't be good for them?" 

"Strawberry Quick. Well at least not in the amounts they've been drinking it lately." 

"Ah Ray?" 

"Hmmm?", Ray said as they pulled out of the driveway. 

"About the Strawberry Quick..." 

~~~~~~

The drive had exhausted Fraser. He was asleep before they had arrived at the butcher shop. Ray was content to leave him where he was, sleeping in the Riv, but Ray's getting out of the car woke him and he insisted on accompanying Ray into the store. 

Vito Magro's butcher shop was crowded and overheated. Fraser found a wooden chair beside the door and promptly fell asleep. The conversations around him in Italian filtered into his dozing Italian-phrase filled mind and he sleepily joined in some of the conversations. Ray noticed that his hands were twitching as he spoke as if he were using the phrasebook. 

"Tell your friend his Italian is coming along pretty good", Vito said. "And where's Frannie? We don't see enough of her anymore." 

### 31.

  
"I know you're tired but there's just one more stop, Benny. Then I'll  
get you home."

"I'm fine, Ray. Really. No need to worry." 

Twenty-three year old Ira Sklaroff was a genius. He spoke sweetly to the jewels and gold of his trade and coaxed them to do as he wished. In his hands, rubies became roses, amethysts became violets, and in Ray's idea, sapphires, blue topaz, and emeralds became forget-me-nots. 

He held the necklace up for Ray and Fraser to see. 

"Well?" 

It was so breathtakingly beautiful that no one could speak for a few moments. Hundreds of tiny blue forget-me-nots were delicately woven around a thin strand of gold giving it a lace-like appearance. Emeralds, posing as leaves, were scattered here and there. 

"Ira, that is absolutely beautiful." 

Fraser finally found his voice. "Magnificent." 

"I've been trying to talk Ray into becoming a jeweler. He has a good aesthetic." 

"You did this, Ray?" 

"No, it was just my idea." 

"I've gotten so many orders for this I'm not going to have to worry about business for quite a while. Who knows? This could even become my signature piece. But don't worry, Ray. I remember our deal. No forget-me-nots. Ever." 

"Thanks, Ira." 

"No, I have to thank you, Ray. Listen, whatever you've given me as a down payment, I'm going to consider as payment in full." 

"Why that's exceedingly generous of you Mr. Sklaroff." 

Ray was stunned. "Ira, thank you. But that has to be 1/4 of what this is worth. Maybe even less." 

"Well then today's your lucky day", Ira said as he put the necklace into a velvet box. "One condition though...you get any more ideas you see me first." Ray laughed. "Will do." 

~~~~~~

Fraser had spoken with Jennifer on the phone and had gotten to know the woman his friend loved. Not that Ray had confessed this to him but he could tell. For all the time that he had known him, Ray had never seemed more relaxed or happy. His edginess and prickliness were gone and in its place was contentment. 

~~~~~~

"But you said I could come." 

"Yes, I know. But that was when her flight was coming in at 8PM. Now her flight won't be in until midnight, maybe later. And that's if the blizzard across Pennsylvania and Ohio moves through. You'll be sitting with me at the airport, asleep, mumbling in Italian, and missing antibiotics. You can talk to her about all the languages and dialects in the tundra tomorrow night when we have dinner." 

"Promise?" 

"Yes! Now are you going to get into bed so I can give you the antibiotics or do I have to carry you?" And as if to prove that he could do it, Ray easily picked up the sulking Mountie under the arms and lifted him off the living room sofa, standing him upright while placing the cane in his right hand. 

Ray had a smile in his voice. "You know, Benny, I will never get used to you pouting", he said as they made their way to the den. 

"I don't pout or mumble in Italian." 

"Oh yes you do, Fraser. Just ask Vito the next time you see him." 

"You know...you let a Chicago cop save your life...you pay and you pay..." 

"You say something, Benny?" 

"Nothing Ray. Just mumbling in *English* this time." 

"You're pouting!" 

"I am not!" 

"Are too!" 

### 32.

Upon arriving at the airport, Ray was relieved to find that Jennifer's  
flight had finally left New York at midnight. Estimated time of arrival  
in Chicago: 1:47 AM. He looked around the airport and found a beautiful  
restaurant with dark wood, velvet covered booths, and tiffany lamps at  
the tables. This was not where he wanted to have dinnner with her but  
at this hour of the morning, no worthwhile restaurant in Chicago would  
be open. The menu looked good too.

*It'll do for now.* 

Ray berated himself as he paced at Gate 72 of Chicago's O'Hare Airport. 

*Why did I never ask her for a picture?* 

It was a moot point anyway because he would be seeing her in a few minutes. Ever since he had given up his vigil at Fraser's bedside those first 10 days when he was in the hospital, he had spoken to Jennifer nightly. The phone bill was enormous but he didn't care. It was worth it because with Jennifer he felt happy and at peace. Any price he'd have to pay was worth it. This was an unusual feeling for Ray. He had felt peace and contentment once before and what's more, he knew exactly when it began and when it ended. 

*Theressa. My beautiful Theressa.* 

Ray and Angie's only child taken away from them when she was 18 months of age. 

Peace and happiness came with her birth and ended, seemingly forever, with her death. 

Asking God countless times why couldn't he have died instead of her left a prickly, acerbic Ray Vecchio behind. 

>From his back pocket he removed his wallet to look at the photo he carried with him all these long, lonely years. It was her Christening Day and she was wearing the beautiful antique gown that all the Vecchios, including himself, had been Christened in. In the photo, Ray was looking down at her while she looked up at him. Ray hated how he looked in the photo. With his head down and smiling, he looked like all nose and teeth. But Theressa, 4 months old at the time, was looking up at her father. Her beautiful face, tiny rosebud lips that were parted, and curled fingers made it look like she was saying something to her father. What's more, he remembered that moment precisely and someone, Frannie maybe, had taken the photo just then. 

If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the weight of her in his arms and hear her cooing. 

*Oh my beautiful Theressa.* 

As usual, her memory brought back joy, heartache, and tears. 

*Oh Jesus. Jennifer's gonna be here any minute and I'll be standing here crying. That'll look real good.* 

He dried his tears and looked again at the photo, running his fingertips across her face. It was showing signs of wear and tear and years ago he had it laminated. He hated to do that, it was like putting plastic on leather or a work of art under glass. It turned out to be fortunate however because of his 2 near drownings with Fraser, the photo would have been ruined. 

*Well Theressa. You're in the arms of a better man than me. My God how I miss you. I love you my sweet baby.* 

As was his usual custom, he kissed the photograph like a priest kisses the Gospel and closed his wallet. 

He heard the announcement that Flight 107 was landing and passengers would be arriving at Gate 72\. He watched through a window as the plane pulled up to the gate. His heart was pounding. Inside his overcoat he felt the velvet box which held the necklace. He clutched it as if it were a lifeline. 

*I feel at peace with her. Whole. Content. Complete. Does she feel the same about me?* 

Judging from the conversations they had, Jennifer did. Conversations. They had had plenty of them. And that was all they had. Could it be the start of a life? 

He looked out the window at the stars shining in the night. He picked one and closed his eyes and made a wish upon it. 

*Please let it happen. Please let it happen.* 

He opened his eyes and turned around. She stood before him. She was tall and slender, almost Ray's height. Her thick, wavy light brown hair tickled Ray's face as he buried his face in her neck. They had spoken all the words and now they needed something else. Silently, they embraced one another tightly, revelling in each other's feel, scent, and strength. 

The passengers from Flight 107 had departed with family or friends and still Ray and Jennifer stood, holding on. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, Jennifer spoke. 

"Ray how I've missed you." 

"I've missed you too. Do you know how much I love you?" 

"If how much I love you is the measure, then yes I do." 

~~~~~~

The beautiful necklace sparkled in the light from the tiffany lamp as they sat in a secluded booth facing one another. Jennifer had cried when Ray had given it to her. They held each other's hands tightly and Ray kissed her fingers. 

"I brought something for you too, Ray", Jennifer said as she slid an envelope towards him. 

"You brought me an envelope! Just what I've always wanted! Business size #10 too! Why thank you!" 

"OK yuck it up buddy. But it's not really for you alone...it's more for your entire family." 

He clumsily opened the envelope because his hands were shaking. *What is this?* 

The contents of the letter blurred and tears stung his eyes. 

"You bought Theressa a star." 

In their conversations, he had mentioned Theressa. It was one of their more poignant ones when Fraser was still hospitalized but was feeling well and recovering. The weight of all the sadness and pain he had been dealing with finally came crashing down on his strong, broad shoulders. Jennifer had been there for him, so many miles away, talking to him and supporting him. 

"Well you always take such good care of everyone else, I thought it would be nice to have someone watching over you, protecting you, day and night." 

She touched Ray's tears as they fell from his eyes. 

"You know I think I fell in love with Chicago." 

"But you've only seen the airport." 

"Oh I've seen all I need to see." 

"Do you think you could stay here forever? With me?" 

"I'd thought you'd never ask." 

Ray smiled. Yes this was the peace he sought. 

~~~~~~

It was a veritable caravan that left the Vecchio home that night to travel to see Theressa's star. 

When Ray announced to the family that Jennifer had bought one for her, Mrs. Vecchio, Maria, and Frannie had all burst into tears and hugged her. On this clear night, all the family travelled into the countryside, away from the city glare, to see the star. 

The two smartest men Ray knew, Fraser and Frank Brincheiro, were there to lead the expedition and to navigate the sky and find the star. The star was visible with the naked eye but Ray purchased a telescope anyway to see it 'up close'. 

In the quiet countryside the telescope was set-up and Benny and Frank read the directions to guide them to the star. 

"Oh dear." 

That was an expression to which Ray was well accustomed and it meant all was not well. 

"What's wrong, Benny?" 

"Well nothing really, Ray. It's just that Theressa's star is in the general vicinity of the airport. I'm afraid that the airport lighting might make it harder to see." 

"Well that's why I got the telescope." 

Fraser and Frank conferred with each other, the directions, and the sky. After sometime Fraser announced, "There it is, Ray. And Jennifer is right. Theressa's star can be seen with the naked eye." 

Ray held Jennifer tightly and kissed her. 

He went over to look through the telescope at his daughter's star. She was just as beautiful as her father remembered. 

~~~THE END~~~

**Wounds**  
Laurie Redwood  
  



End file.
